


La maison est où le coeur est

by BestDeadFriendsForever



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aramis is 17, Athos is 18, FTM Aramis, Foster Care, M/M, Multi, Porthos is 18, Trans Aramis, Treville runs a boys' home, d'Artagnan is 16, foster home au, smutty in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:57:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 19
Words: 62,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BestDeadFriendsForever/pseuds/BestDeadFriendsForever
Summary: d'Artagnan has been bounced around the foster system until he finally lands in Treville's home for troubled teens. Treville takes only the hardest cases, the most troubled kids, and each of the four boys now living with him fit that description.





	1. Enter the New Kid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d'Artagnan's story begins

                The last person Treville would have expected on his doorstep was his godson, the son of his old friend Alexandre d’Artagnan. And yet, when Treville answered the knock on his door, the young Charles d’Artagnan was standing there, handcuffed and with a police escort.

            “Got another one for you,” de Foix, the officer and an old friend of Treville’s from when he was on the force, said. He held out a file and Treville frowned as he took it. He kept it closed and didn’t bother to read it. It was his routine. If the boy that came to live with him wanted to talk, they’d talk, but Treville wouldn’t infringe upon what little privacy they had.

            “Bring him in,” Treville stepped out of the doorway and de Foix dipped his head in gratitude before he escorted the teen inside. Treville settled into his armchair as de Foix uncuffed Treville’s new charge. de Foix glared pointedly at the sofa. There was a short glaring match between the officer and the boy before he finally settled.

            Treville looked him over with an air of disapproval. The boy had a dark bruise under his eye that faded as it spread across his nose. In the epicenter of the bruise was a cut across his cheekbone. A frown tugged at Treville’s mouth as he noticed the split lip as well.

            “Did you do this?” Treville asked de Foix bluntly.

            “Oh, come on. You know me better than that,” de Foix scoffed.

            “I do. But I was also a cop once, so we both know what can happen to kids like this.” Treville crossed his arms and gave de Foix a cold stare.

            “No, Jean. I didn’t do this.”

            Treville nodded and turned to the boy who sat, shoulders slumped and eyes trained on his battered sneakers, on his couch. “How’d it happen then?”

            “A fight,” the boy muttered and scuffed his shoe along the floor.

            “How’s the other kid look?” Treville asked.

            The teen blinked at Treville in confusion. It was a moment before he’d put on his false bravado. “I’d say I improved his face. Made his nose less crooked.”

            Treville barked out a laugh at the boy’s cocky response. “You can go Officer de Foix. Charles will fit in nicely here.”

            The officer glanced between Treville and Charles before nodding and letting himself out. He certainly knew the way he’d been in and out so many times with Treville’s new charges. There was a long moment of silence before either of them spoke.

            Treville broke the silence. “How’d you come to be in my care, Charlie?”

            “Don’t call me that!” Charles snapped.

            “Would you prefer Charles?” Treville asked with an unimpressed eyebrow raise.

            “Just… just call me d’Artagnan,” d’Artagnan replied as his shoulders slumped once more.

            “Can do.” Treville nodded resolutely.

            “How did you know my name?” d’Artagnan asked. “You didn’t read my file.”

            “I knew your father,” Treville said honestly. “We grew up together, and we were friends.”

            “I don’t… I don’t remember you,” d’Artagnan frowned in concentration. A face that made him resemble his father.

            “You were young when I left town,” Treville shrugged. It didn’t hurt his feelings too much, d’Artagnan had only been around three at the time. “Let’s get you settled then. Where’s your bag?” Treville asked and noticed that d’Artagnan only had a ratty backpack sitting at his feet.

            “I-well I- I…” d’Artagnan looked down at his sneakers again. “I don’t have anything,” d’Artagnan admitted quietly.

            “The boys will just have to share until I can take you out to get your own things,” Treville said casually. He knew that for some of the boys it was embarrassing that they hardly had anything of their own. By the looks of d’Artagnan’s ill-fitting close, his previous foster family hadn’t given him much. “I have three other boys living here at the moment. There’s usually more, but,” Treville just shrugged inelegantly. “Porthos is my son, adopted out of the foster system. Olivier was a foster child who aged out but he still lives with me. René is a foster child like you. With you all being so close in age, you should get on just fine.” Treville stood and gestured for d’Artagnan to follow him. d’Artagnan stooped to shoulder his bag but then followed Treville. They walked over to the stairs and went up. “Olivier will still be at fencing, he always stays extra late to practice alone, but Porthos and René are upstairs.” Treville passed the bathroom and Olivier’s room and rounded on René’s door. “We don’t have a spare bedroom, so you and René will share.” Treville knocked on the closed door and there was a loud thud, some laughter intermixed with muted cursing, before the door was pulled open.

            “Papa!” Porthos nearly squeaked and flushed embarrassedly. He was naked from the waist up and his jeans were undone. René was stifling laughter into his pillow as he lounged on the bed. Treville rolled his eyes with a put-upon look and a sigh.

            “Condoms?” Treville asked and Porthos’s flush spread down his neck.

            “Of course,” Porthos muttered and ducked his head.

            “Good,” Treville said and he nodded. “Boys, meet d’Artagnan. d’Artagnan, this is Porthos,” Treville said and gestured to Porthos, “and that,” he said flatly, “is René. René, you’ll be sharing your room with d’Artagnan.”

            d’Artagnan’s eyes were wide and his face was turning red as he glanced between the two boys.

            René pushed himself up so he was sitting and grabbed up a shirt from the floor. When he put it on it was big enough that it was obviously Porthos’s. “Call me Aramis, please.” Aramis stuck out his hand and d’Artagnan shook it. “Only Treville calls me René. And for the love of God, don’t call Athos ‘Olivier’. He hates it.”

            “Thanks for the advice,” d’Artagnan said and he was obviously in a daze.

            “Porthos, why don’t you get cleaned up and then help me with dinner?” Treville asked pointedly. Porthos nodded and he glanced behind him, noted Aramis had his shirt, and then just ducked his head to leave. Aramis was grinning and pointedly staring at Porthos’s butt as he walked out. “Behave, René.”

            “Can do,” Aramis winked at Treville and waved d’Artagnan in. “We’ll get you somewhere to sleep.” d’Artagnan nodded as Aramis took d’Artagnan’s bag from him. Aramis tossed it next to his own bookbag and went to dig around in his closet. They kept a blowup mattress in each of the boys’ rooms in case of a sudden addition. “Treville will get the real bed set up for you soon, but for now I hope this is alright.”

            “Yeah,” d’Artagnan said as Aramis pulled out the mattress and unfolded it. He shifted awkwardly as Aramis set everything up.

            “You okay?” Aramis asked with a concerned furrow in his brow.

            d’Artagnan shifted on his feet and shrugged. “I should be used to being bounced around by now.” He shrugged again and stared at his shoes.

            “But you’re not,” Aramis said gently and started inflating the air mattress. d’Artagnan just shook his head. “Well, if it makes you feel better, Treville never let anyone go unless they want to. If you’re looking for a long-term place, you’ve found it.” Aramis winked at him and smiled brightly. d’Artagnan nodded and tried not to fidget as much.

…..

            d’Artagnan tried to eat but he ended up pushing his dinner around his plate more than eating it. He felt nervous and out of place at the table with Treville and the three boys. They were all comfortable around each other and d’Artagnan almost felt like he was intruding.

            “Something wrong, d’Artagnan?” Treville asked and d’Artagnan looked up from his plate to see all four of them staring at him. He swallowed thickly.

            Aramis was warm enough, and Treville had an air that he was stern but fair, Porthos would have seemed intimidating if d’Artagnan and Treville hadn’t walked in on Porthos and Aramis, but Athos was another story.

            Athos had come home twenty minutes after d’Artagnan had arrived. Aramis and d’Artagnan had been talking when Athos had slumped effortlessly against the doorframe, and d’Artagnan had nearly choked on his own spit. Athos was slim, and lean based on the way his sweat damp tank top was clinging to his chest, and even with his brown hair sweaty and standing up in messy waves, he was attractive. d’Artagnan had to manually kickstart his brain as he realized he was gaping stupidly.

            Aramis had just grinned and turned his attention to Athos. “What do you want?”

            “Was just wondering if you had the notes from history today,” Athos said as he had pushed his hair away from his eyes.

            d’Artagnan pulled himself out of his head. “No,” d’Artagnan choked out. “I’m fine.” He ducked his head again and he could feel eyes still on him as he pushed his dinner around more. He took a few bites when he made eye contact with Treville and the man raised an eyebrow.

            He stood and grabbed up his plate. “And where are you going?” Treville asked.

            “I think I’m gonna turn in early, and I was gonna clean up,” d’Artagnan said and froze.

            “Set your plate on the floor. Enjolras will take care of the leftovers. Aramis can clean up the dishes,” Treville said with a nod. d’Artagnan frowned.

            “Enjolras… isn’t that from-?”

            “Yes,” Porthos chuckled. “Papa’s a big Victor Hugo fan. Enjolras is the dog.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and he smiled. “Just set the plate on the floor in the kitchen. He’ll get to it eventually,” Aramis said with a grin.

            d’Artagnan set the plate down on the floor and headed up to his and Aramis’s shared bedroom. He curled up on his now made-up bed and stared at the wall. He closed his eyes against the wash of feelings that always cropped up when he was moved to another home. He missed his father, and he missed having a home. He swiped at his eyes before any tears could fall and shifted so he was on his stomach. It didn’t take very long until he was fitfully asleep.

…..

            d’Artagnan tried to look at shirts but mostly ended up slinking through the aisles without looking at anything. He glanced up and saw Treville watching him, and he just ducked his head again.

            “d’Artagnan,” Treville started and d’Artagnan sighed heavily.

            “I’m trying. I just… I don’t know.” d’Artagnan shrugged and Treville just bit his lip and watched him.

            “We can try somewhere else,” Treville suggested and d’Artagnan nodded. The store had nice clothes, but they were too nice, too fancy for d’Artagnan.

            “Yeah,” d’Artagnan said and forced himself to smile.

            They walked into another store and d’Artagnan felt a little better. The clothes were more generic looking and he felt some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders. Treville touched his shoulder to get his attention. “I’m going to find Aramis, you keep looking.” d’Artagnan nodded and he smiled to himself as Treville walked out of the store.

            He slowly walked around and after a moment he grabbed a few shirts, a jacket, and a few pairs of jeans to try on. He pulled on a white t-shirt and dark jeans. He shifted a moment before he grabbed the leather jacket. Once he had it on he took a moment to look at himself. It felt weird to have clothes on that _actually_ fit him. It’d been a while.

            He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a knock on the door and then Aramis’s voice. “d’Artagnan, that you?”

            “Yeah,” d’Artagnan mumbled and he ran a hand through his hair. “Just give me a second.” He glanced at himself in the mirror before he stripped out of the clothes, put them back on their hangers, and pulled his own baggy clothes back on. “What?” d’Artagnan asked as he pulled open the dressing room door.

            Aramis glanced behind d’Artagnan felt his neck burning. “Is that what you picked out?”

            “No,” d’Artagnan snapped and he flicked his eyes back down to his feet.

            Aramis frowned and he stepped inside the dressing room and shut the door. “d’Artagnan, can we talk?”

            “I don’t think you’re giving me much choice,” d’Artagnan said and gave Aramis a weak grin.

            “I remember being where you are,” Aramis said, his hands on his hips. “You don’t want to be a problem, don’t want to be labeled a “troubled child” anymore.” d’Artagnan hated how transparent he seemed. “Treville’s not like that.” d’Artagnan looked up and stared at Aramis. “He _wants_ to do this. That’s why he takes the hard cases that no one else will.”

            d’Artagnan scoffed and Aramis’s jaw ticked with how tightly he was clenching it. “I’ve heard that speech already, and every time I’ve been let down. I’ve been bounced to the next home without a second thought. I won’t hold my breath this time.”

            “Just…” Aramis took a deep breath. “Just try and let Treville help, for as long as it lasts.” d’Artagnan swallowed thickly and he just nodded. “Alright then, maybe I can help you pick some stuff out.”

            “Why?” d’Artagnan asked with a frown.

            “Because I’m good at it,” Aramis grinned.

…..

            After hours of Aramis flitting between racks and d’Artagnan trying things on, they all walked out with a bag in hand. They were all quiet for the ride home and the second they were parked, d’Artagnan slunk upstairs to put his new things away. He folded each shirt and pair of pants carefully before tucking it into a drawer that Aramis had cleared out for him. He hung up both the leather and denim jackets he’d gotten. He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair.

            He let himself smile a little to himself as he smoothed his jacket on the hangers. He heard a knock and he turned, the smile dimming slightly, to see Treville leaning against the doorframe.

            “How’s it going?” Treville asked.

            d’Artagnan smiled. “It’s good.”

            “Feeling a little better? More settled?”

            “Yeah,” d’Artagnan nodded.

            “Maybe next time we can get you a new pair of shoes,” Treville chuckled. d’Artagnan glanced down at his beaten pair of sneakers. He chewed his lip and hesitated only a moment before he nodded.

            “Yeah, it sounds like a plan,” d’Artagnan said and tucked his hands into his back pockets. Treville nodded and he pushed off the doorframe to head downstairs. “Treville…” d’Artagnan said and he pulled his hands out of his pockets so he could tuck his hands under his arms. The man turned to look at d’Artagnan with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you.”

            Treville nodded. “Of course, and if there’s anything else you need just ask.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and he felt a warm feeling settle in his chest. It had been a while since he’d felt something akin to feeling at home. He hadn’t felt so at ease since his father died. It made him a little uneasy, but he settled after a moment of thought. His father would have been happy that he could find some sort of anchor. A place he could return to. This would be a good thing. He would make sure of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to be snippets and not a linear storyline, fair warning.  
> Tell me what you think and maybe tell me about some things you'd like to see in the future.  
> -James


	2. Butting Heads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d'Artagnan starts more fights and gets himself into an awkward situation.

            It’d been a month.

            d’Artagnan could hardly believe it. He was scrawling down his notes for his English class, the foreign words getting tied up in his head, when he heard a thud from the bottom of the stairs.

            “d’Artagnan!” It was Athos. Again.

            d’Artagnan scowled down at his notes and continued writing, albeit a little slower as he heard the older boy storming up the stairs. Because he wasn’t looking, he was surprised when his boots collided with his head.

            “What the fuck?” d’Artagnan hissed and he rubbed his head, glaring at where Athos was glaring at him coldly from the doorway.

            “Stop leaving your _shoes_ on the _stairs_!” Athos growled. “How many more times do I have to say this to you?”

            “Stop bossing me around, Athos! I tucked them away into the corner, if you tripped over them it’s your own fault!”

            It was a worn-out argument by now. Treville didn’t allow the boys to wear their shoes upstairs because that’s where their rooms were. So, d’Artagnan would toe off his shoes at the stairs and tuck them to the side. Neither Aramis nor Porthos had minded his shoes being there, just Athos. Athos who looked incredible attractive angry, but at the moment d’Artagnan didn’t care about that. He cared that Athos had just threw and hit him with his boots.

            Athos’s ears were red with his frustration. “Just leave them by the door! We have a shoe rack for a reason!”

            “And no one, but you, complains about my shoes!” d’Artagnan was starting to get riled up. His hands itched in that familiar way when he was gearing up for a fight.

            “Just… stop leaving them!” Athos stormed out and d’Artagnan, on a terrible impulse, picked up his boot and stormed after him.

            “Don’t throw things at me!” d’Artagnan shouted and tossed the boot at Athos’s back. It bounced off his shoulder and Athos turned around angrily. His jaw worked in his rage, but he turned without another word. d’Artagnan stormed down the stairs and rushed out of the house. He needed air before he smothered himself in a hot rage. He was so focused on Athos and how angry he was, that he didn’t notice the girl crossing his path. He collided with her and they both fell to the ground.

            “Excuse you!” She pushed her auburn ringlets from her face to show a face lit up in anger similar to his own and how Athos’s had been. He opened his mouth to say something snappy, but he closed it resolutely.

            “Sorry,” he muttered but it came out as tense as he felt.

            “Good,” she muttered and stood, brushing her clothes off.

            Now that the edge had been taken off his frustration, he made himself calm himself down further. “I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

            “That much is obvious,” the girl said and sighed heavily. d’Artagnan stood and he brushed off his jeans. “Let’s try and keep this from happening again.”

            “Can do,” d’Artagnan said and pushed a hand through his hair, “but I doubt that it will.”

            “I don’t know, I live next door. I might live in the danger zone.” She glanced him up and down with a slight smile. She stuck out her hand. “Constance Baudin. I live next door, like I said, with my brothers.”

            “d’Artagnan. I live… here,” d’Artagnan said and vaguely gestured to Treville’s house. He shook her hand and smiled awkwardly. Now that he’d gotten his head back, he felt heat crawling its way up the back of his neck.

            “I guessed,” Constance said and eyed the house. She lifted her hand casually and d’Artagnan looked over his shoulder to see Aramis and Porthos on the porch swing. d’Artagnan had stormed past them without even noticing. The heat crawled its way onto his cheeks at the smirk Aramis was wearing. He was never going to live this down. “Boys,” she called to them and dipped her head in acknowledgement.

            “I’m just gonna… go,” d’Artagnan said and darted back into the house. He felt his face heat up even more as he noticed, he’d never even been wearing shoes.

…..

            “I hear you and Athos got into it again,” Treville said as he settled down on the back steps next to d’Artagnan. Enjolras came over and pressed between them so that the beagle could settle his head on d’Artagnan’s thigh. d’Artagnan scratched behind the dog’s ears and shrugged.

            “I guess.”

            “You guess?”

            “We did,” d’Artagnan admitted and he rubbed at his eyes.

            “I’ve been thinking,” Treville said and it had a softer tone to it. d’Artagnan was immediately on edge. Treville wasn’t a coddling sort of man. “I thought you might want to consider talking to someone. You’re angry, and in many ways it’s understandable, but I can’t have this behavior, d’Artagnan. I won’t tolerate it.”

            “No,” d’Artagnan snarled and shook his head.

            “I won’t force you, but I think you should at least consider it,” Treville said and d’Artagnan just shook his head harder.

            “I won’t do it! I’m not going to have someone poke around my head just so that they can turn me into a medication zombie so they don’t have to deal with what’s actually wrong!” d’Artagnan stood and his hands were shaking. He remembered the awful white walls of a counselor’s office too well. He remembered the routine of taking pills that either made him feel worse or turned him into the living dead. He clenched his hands to keep them from shaking as he pushed away thoughts of his father’s death and the doctors and psychiatrists that came after.

            Treville frowned at him. “I won’t be spoken to like that, d’Artagnan.” Treville’s gaze was cool and stern. “I’m trying to help you.” Treville stood. “You’re grounded for a week. At the end of the week we’ll talk about this again, maybe not about seeing a counselor but you need an outlet. That much is very clear to me.” d’Artagnan wanted to protest, but he couldn’t. He just nodded and his shoulders slumped. “If it’s any consolation, Athos has been grounded as well.”

            “That’s going to make things so much better,” d’Artagnan muttered with sarcasm dripping from his tone.

            “If you two can’t get along, that’s just between the two of you.” Treville shrugged. “But, I would suggest that if you want to continue getting along with Aramis and Porthos, you should make peace with Athos.”

            d’Artagnan scowled at his shoes but nodded begrudgingly. “I’ll try.”

            “See that you do,” Treville said and clapped d’Artagnan on the shoulder before he went back inside. d’Artagnan sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to try and fix this, if he even could.

…..

            d’Artagnan could feel Athos’s gaze burning into his back as he reached into the fridge to grab a drink. He took a drink and turned to see Athos pulling on his gloves, his épée tucked under his arm. “Athos-”

            “Stop,” Athos interjected and his glare sent ice into d’Artagnan’s blood. “I know Treville talked to you, and I’m sure I have a pretty good idea as to what he said.” Athos pushed his hair from his eyes and fixed d’Artagnan with a look. “If you don’t like me, honestly, I don’t care, but Aramis and Porthos are their own people. If you only want to make amends to save face with them, don’t bother.”

            d’Artagnan felt a spark of anger but he pushed it aside as he set his water down. “It’s not just that,” d’Artagnan said. “I don’t… I’m not good at conflict.” He rubbed his hands on his pants. “I don’t want there to be any… yeah.” He shifted on his feet and glanced at Athos through his lashes. Athos was watching him and the normal scowl that Athos wore was gone. He just seemed confused. “If we could put this behind us, start fresh, I’d appreciate it.”

            Athos stared at him and d’Artagnan felt paralyzed as those piercing light eyes watched him intently. “Consider it forgotten then,” Athos said. d’Artagnan’s breath felt like it’d been punched out of him, and he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath.

            “Alright, I’ll, uh, just-just go.” d’Artagnan smiled faintly and he let his eyes roam over Athos in his practice gear. He was in a worn, slightly too short t-shirt with their high school’s name emblazoned on the front that was nearly transparent in places. d’Artagnan watched the way Athos’s sweatpants slipped down onto his hips as he walked away. His stomach turned and warmth pooled in his abdomen. He tried to push it away and he grabbed his water so he could sprint up the stairs.

            It was a bad choice.

            From his seat in the window nook where he was trying desperately to focus on his reading assignment, he could see Athos drilling himself in the yard. d’Artagnan being grounded meant little to nothing: he had no after school activities and no friends, but for Athos it meant no fencing. So Athos was practicing in the yard. And distracting d’Artagnan immensely.

            d’Artagnan tossed his book aside.

            He ran a hand through his hair and chewed his lip. He glanced out at Athos again and watched the sleek lines of each practiced movement. He bit his lip hard to ground himself before he pushed himself up. He headed downstairs and went out onto the porch to sit on the railing and watch Athos.

            Up close he was even more distracting.

            d’Artagnan was not only fascinated by Athos, covered in a light sheen of sweat and with his brows creased in concentration, but what he was doing. He was so caught up in his head and analyzing everything that he didn’t realize that Athos had stopped. And Athos was looking straight at him.

            “Like something you see?” Athos asked with a small, wry smile. Athos wiped his brow and d’Artagnan’s stomach turned.

            “It’s interesting,” d’Artagnan said trying to keep his voice steady. “When’d you learn?”

            Athos shifted his grip. “I was young. My parents thought a well-bred boy like me should have a fitting hobby. They were snobby and rich, and they wanted me to have accomplishments that reflected that image. So, fencing.” He tucked his épée under his arm again and tugged off his gloves. “Would you want to try?”

            d’Artagnan shifted before he slid down from the railing and into the grass. “Could I?” Athos nodded. They met halfway and Athos offered the blade to d’Artagnan. d’Artagnan took it and Athos clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “What?”

            “You’re holding it wrong.” Athos shrugged. “It’s a common mistake.” He moved so he was standing behind d’Artagnan and could see his hand better behind the handguard. Athos gently manipulated d’Artagnan’s hand to the proper position. His fingers lingered on d’Artagnan’s for a moment before he pulled away. “Like that.”

            “Now what?” d’Artagnan asked and looked over his shoulder at Athos.

            “Your stance,” Athos said and he seemed to light up a little. He took d’Artagnan’s wrist and after a few moments d’Artagnan was in a shaky fencing stance. d’Artagnan bit his lip and tried to concentrate as he felt the warmth radiating out of Athos’s chest and into his back. It was highly distracting and d’Artagnan let it a shaky breath of relief as Athos stepped away.

            Athos circled him to see his stance from all sides and with some distance, the stare was a little easier to bear. “How do I look?” d’Artagnan asked with a grin.

            “Like you’re getting there,” Athos said and he stepped in to press his hand to d’Artagnan’s back to straighten his spine. “Now let’s work on some basic strokes.”

…..

            d’Artagnan and Athos stumbled into the house, sweaty and grinning, to see Porthos and Aramis around the dinner table, their homework spread around them. They both looked between d’Artagnan and Athos with strange looks on their faces. d’Artagnan glanced over at Athos, who’s arm he was tucked under, and then back to Aramis and Porthos with a furrow between his brows.

            “Having fun, boys?” Treville came out of the kitchen with a grin, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

            “Athos was teaching me some fencing stuff,” d’Artagnan said.

            “Is your homework done?” Treville asked.

            d’Artagnan felt a flush color his cheeks that had nothing to do with the exertion. “Uh… well, mostly.”

            Treville sighed heavily but once he looked between Athos and d’Artagnan, he relented. “I want it done before dinner, alright?” d’Artagnan nodded and he stepped out from under Athos’s arm.

            “Sure thing, I’m just gonna grab a quick shower. Unless you were going to…” d’Artagnan said and looked at Athos sheepishly. Athos shrugged and d’Artagnan hesitated. There seemed to be a tension in the air.

            “Go ahead, I can shower after you.” Athos dipped his head and went upstairs..

            “Thanks,” d’Artagnan called after him and he pushed his hand through his hair. He grinned as he headed up the stairs. He went to duck into the bathroom when he noticed Athos was about to walk into his room. “Athos, wait up.” Athos glanced over and d’Artagnan smiled. “I just wanted to say…” For a minute d’Artagnan wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. He swallowed thickly and his brain scrambled. The first substantial thought he could hold onto was that he would most definitely not mind showering together. He felt his neck heat up at the thought but he pushed it aside. “Thanks for showing me all that fencing stuff.”

            Athos watched him for a moment before nodding, his sweat damp hair falling into his eyes. “Any time you want a lesson, I’m here.”

            “Sounds great,” d’Artagnan said. He lingered and he felt a tug in his stomach as Athos waited for him to say more. His body decided to overthrow his brain. “You know we could shower together if you don’t mind.” He was mortified such a stupid thing would _actually_ come out of his mouth.

            Athos froze as well and d’Artagnan wanted to hit his head against the bathroom door. Repeatedly. Athos opened his mouth and then shut it.

            “d’Artagnan,” Athos said and he ran his hand through his hair, “I don’t think the timing is- I’m flattered but… no.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Of course-yeah, that’s completely-yeah. Got it. I’m just gonna- yeah.” d’Artagnan ducked into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He pressed his back to the door and let out a pained breath. That had been so stupid of him and he couldn’t believe he’d just said that. He pushed away from the door and turned on the shower. He pulled his clothes off and tossed them into the hamper wordlessly. He stepped into the shower and just let the hot water beat down on his back. He ducked his head so that his hair was falling into his eyes. He finally made himself move and he scrubbed his hair and body methodically, trying to ignore the tingling feeling in his thighs.

            Once he was rinsed off and wrapped in a towel, he headed into his room to get his clothes. He hadn’t expected the boys to be in the hallway, talking in the doorway of Porthos’s room. d’Artagnan felt his face get hot as he slunk into his and Aramis’s room with the eyes of the others on him. He closed the door and moved to grab himself a change of clothes.

            He felt the familiar curl of arousal in his abdomen and he tried to will the embarrassing feeling away. He slipped his boxer briefs on and glared at his traitorous dick. “I hate you,” he muttered and for a moment he contemplated just taking care of it quickly, but the door opening behind him changed his mind. He quickly pulled on his jeans and then turned to look at Aramis who was moving over to flop onto his bed, flipping through something on his phone.

            He seemed content to ignore d’Artagnan so d’Artagnan pulled on his shirt and then grabbed his oversize hoodie. The hoodie fell to his thighs and helped to mask his problem. He let out a relieved sigh and then moved to fall into bed, his book in hand. He read it over twice, taking notes, so that he’d actually remember something of it when he was finished.

            Both he and Aramis looked up when they heard someone knock on the door. d’Artagnan lowered his book to see Porthos in the doorway. “Dinner’s ready,” Porthos said and grinned at them.

            “Coming,” Aramis said and d’Artagnan wanted to flinch. He pushed himself up and they moved downstairs. The reading had, thankfully, dimmed his arousal so it wasn’t embarrassing when he and Athos locked eyes as they all four headed downstairs. d’Artagnan broke their eye contact and swallowed thickly. He had made things even worse than he ever could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> d'Artagnan's starting to settle but things aren't ready to be settled quite yet! Comment and let me know what you think!  
> -James


	3. Blood Is Thicker Than Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis deals with some family issues within Treville's "family", but mostly with his own biological one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: There's some super transphobic, homophobic and implied racist behavior in this chapter.

            “René!” Treville called and he worried his lip between his teeth. He tapped the letter on the table and waited for the boy to show up.

            “How many times must I tell you I want to be called Aramis,” Aramis sighed dramatically. When he noticed the way Treville’s face was serious he sobered instantly. “Treville?” He asked and Treville felt his stomach twist up as Aramis suddenly looked his scant seventeen years.

            “I just got a letter, for you technically but just listen,” Treville said calmly and held it out to Aramis. The boy tensed as he noticed the handwriting on the envelope.

            “No,” he breathed out, his hands starting to shake just a little.

            “It’s your father.” Treville took a breath. “He’s out of prison and he’d like to see you. Of course, you don’t have to agree, but I thought you’d like to at least consider it. Anything you decide, I’ll support you.”

            Aramis shoved the letter into his back pocket without reading it and put a wobbly smile onto his face. “Thank you, Treville. I’ll read it and get back to you. Is that okay?”

            “Take your time.”

            Aramis nodded and headed back upstairs. Treville let his shoulders slump and he shook his head. He hoped that Aramis would say no, but if the teen said yes, Treville would have to watch him closely.

…..

            “I can’t believe he had the balls to write to you!” Porthos growled and he paced his floor. Aramis watched him make the repetitive line until he started to become dizzy. He ducked his head to look at the letter that he still hadn’t read. It sat on his lap. He ran his fingers over the spindly handwriting: _Renée d’Herblay_. He felt sick just looking at it. He let his index finger cover the extra e at the end of his name and it settled him a little. “After all this time! And to address it like _that_!”

            “I know,” Aramis said and he swallowed thickly. “But he’s my father. I should see him.”

            “Like hell you should!”

            “Gentlemen,” Athos said from where he was leaning against Porthos’s desk. Both Aramis and Porthos turned to look at him. He looked between them and gave Porthos a stern look as he continued. “Porthos, that’s enough. This is Aramis’s decision, and it’s not going to be an easy one no matter what he decides.” Porthos looked like he wanted to protest but he just settled for resuming his pacing. “Aramis,” Athos said gently, “perhaps you should talk to your sisters about all this. It might make your decision easier knowing what they think.”

            Aramis nodded. That sounded like a good idea.

            “I’ll call Isabella and Pauline tonight,” Aramis agreed and pushed a hand through his hair.

            “Just… remember you don’t owe him anything, Mis.” Porthos moved over to take Aramis’s hand and gently squeeze it.

            “I know,” Aramis said and kissed Porthos’s hand. “Thank you.”

            Athos nodded and he moved over to brush a fleeting kiss against Aramis’s cheek. “Whatever you decide, we’ll be behind you. I promise.”

            “Thank you, Athos,” Aramis said and slumped in relief. He pushed himself up and he went into his and d’Artagnan’s room. He flipped the letter over a few times before he actually opened it up and started reading it.

…..

            Aramis was staring at the letter when d’Artagnan came in. “Hey, Aramis,” d’Artagnan said and he smiled. Aramis gave d’Artagnan a weak smile and then flicked his eyes back down to stare intently at the letter. “Something wrong?” d’Artagnan asked and tossed his jacket over the back of the desk chair. He took in the ashen look on Aramis’s face and frowned.

            “No, of course not,” Aramis lied and d’Artagnan moved to sit next to Aramis on Aramis’s bed.

            “Aramis…” d’Artagnan trailed off as he noticed the letter. “Bad news?”

            “Not necessarily,” Aramis said and folded the letter up and shoved it into the envelope.

            “You want to talk about it?” d’Artagnan offered stiltedly. He wasn’t sure what he could do or say to really be of any help, but he figured he should at least offer.

            Aramis let out a shaky laugh. “No, d’Artagnan. I’d rather not.”

            “Okay,” d’Artagnan said and he clapped Aramis’s shoulder. “If you change your mind, I’m here.” He stood and moved over to his own bed.

            Aramis hummed distractedly and he stood suddenly. “I’m gonna shower.” Then he was out before d’Artagnan could say anything in acknowledgement.

            d’Artagnan was flipping through his phone later when Aramis, in only a towel, came into the room. d’Artagnan didn’t think much of it as Aramis rifled through his drawers for a fresh set of underwear. He didn’t think anything of any of it until Aramis tapped him on the shoulder. “Mm?” d’Artagnan asked as he skimmed over an article he was reading.

            “Out,” Aramis said and rocked on his feet.

            “What?” d’Artagnan asked, his brow furrowed as he turned to look at Aramis. He was lost for a moment as he took in the expanse of near-flawless skin in front of him. He bit his lip as he traced the lines of muscle in Aramis’s torso, but his eyes got hung up on the only blemish. Two faint scars that ran across Aramis’s chest, one under each pectoral.

            “d’Artagnan!” Aramis snapped and d’Artagnan looked up into Aramis’s face. “Were you listening?” d’Artagnan bit his lip sheepishly and Aramis just sighed theatrically. “I know I’m hot, but focus. You need to get out, I’m getting changed.”

            “So?” d’Artagnan frowned. “It’s not like you have anything that I haven’t seen before.”

            “You wanna bet?” Aramis snapped defensively.

            The pieces slowly slid together in d’Artagnan’s mind. “Oh shit! Aramis, I didn’t realize-I’m sorry.” d’Artagnan got up and made his way toward the door. Aramis just nodded and d’Artagnan bit his lip, feeling stupid. “I didn’t mean… it’s whatever I just didn’t realize that you were,” d’Artagnan waved his hand.

            Aramis’s cheeks colored and d’Artagnan wasn’t sure if it was in anger or embarrassment, so he ducked out and let Aramis shut the door behind him. After a minute Aramis let him back in. He was only in his underwear, a common sight around the house, but it suddenly felt different.

            “I hope I didn’t embarrass you… or piss you off,” d’Artagnan said and tucked his hands under his arms.

            “I’ve heard worse,” Aramis shrugged.

            “No, Aramis,” d’Artagnan pressed on. “I don’t _care_ because it doesn’t change you being you, I just hate to think that I might have been inconsiderate in the past.” He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, hoping he was getting his point across.

            Aramis smiled lopsidedly at d’Artagnan and there was something shining in Aramis’s dark eyes. “You’re fine d’Artagnan. If I wasn’t comfortable with something, I’d tell you.”

            d’Artagnan let out a breath and nodded. “Good.”

            “You’ve been fine, and thank you.” Aramis walked over and brushed a kiss to d’Artagnan’s cheek before he went to grab some sweatpants.

            “For what?”

            “For being okay with this,” Aramis said and gestured down his body.

            “Of course. It’d be stupid of me not to be,” d’Artagnan said and Aramis stiffened slightly. “Aramis?”

            “It’s nothing, just a thought.” Aramis smiled that easy smile again as he wiggled into his sweats. d’Artagnan nodded and moved to flop back into bed.

…..

            Aramis shakily dialed the number and pressed into Athos’s side for comfort as it rang. Athos pressed a soft kiss to his neck and then to his temple to reassure him. Aramis let out a breath that was quickly sucked in again as the phone was picked up.

            “Casimir, talk to me.”

            “ _Papi_ ,” Aramis breathed out, “it’s me. You wrote to me and you said you want to see me.”

            “Ah! How are you?”

            “Good,” Aramis said with a smile that he didn’t feel. “I just wanted to see if we could work out some details, see if we could find a time and place to meet.”

            “So you’re coming?”

            “I want to see you, so yeah.” Athos gave Aramis’s waist a gentle squeeze.

            “That’s great! Alright so I can meet you on Saturday, since you’re still in school, at _Café de Paix_.”

            “Sounds great, is it alright if someone comes with me?”

            “One of your sisters?” Aramis hated that he’d have to kill the hope in his father’s voice.

            “No, but maybe another time?” Aramis offered as consolation. It would never happen and based on the way Athos was wrinkling his nose at him, Aramis shouldn’t have said that. He’d called his sisters and they’d all refused to see their father.

            “Of course, if it’ll make you feel better.”

            “I’ll see you there around noon?”

            “Perfect.”

…..

            Aramis held onto Porthos’s hand desperately as they waited. They’d already grabbed a table and were a little early. Not that Aramis really expected his father to be on time.

            “It’s alright,” Porthos soothed and pressed a kiss to Aramis’s temple. “You can still back out if you want.”

            Aramis shook his head. “No,” he said, “I can do this.”

            “But do you _want_ to?”

            “Of course.” Porthos narrowed his eyes at Aramis’s answer. He watched Aramis carefully for a moment before he sighed, his shoulders slumping.

            “Alright. Just remember I love you.”

            “Love you too,” Aramis smiled weakly and pulled Porthos in for a fiery kiss. He wanted to lose himself in Porthos to fortify himself.

            They both jumped and pulled apart when someone cleared their throat. Aramis’s stomach felt like he’d swallowed lead. It was his father and he was glancing between Aramis and Porthos with a faint look of disgust.

            “Care to introduce me to your… friend, Renée?” Aramis’s father’s light brown eyebrow hitched up as the corners of his mouth pulled further down.

            “ _Papi_ ,” Aramis said and flushed as his skin crawled at the mention of his deadname, “this is Porthos, you know Porthos.” Aramis curled into himself protectively

            “Oh, yes. Now I remember.” Aramis’s father’s smile was more a grimace.

            “Always a pleasure, Señor d’Herblay,” Porthos said, his own smile a grimace, as he offered his hand.

            “You’re still together,” Casimir commented as they shook hands. “I’m surprised.”

            “Well, I still love your son, so you shouldn't be,” Porthos said.

            “My _daughter_ was always good at the hook,” Casimir grinned. “Keeping them… well she never developed the skill, but the pretty face did that for her. Oh well.”

            Porthos bristled, his jaw ticking in agitation as Aramis curled further into himself. “Casimir-” Porthos started with a scowl but Aramis cut in.

            “So, what is this about, _Papi_?” Aramis asked.

            Casimir settled into the chair across the table from them. “Can’t I just want to visit you, Renée?”

            “Aramis,” Porthos corrected waspishly.

            There was a tense silence where Porthos and Casimir glared at each other. Aramis pressed into Porthos’s side and finally Porthos ducked his head to break eye contact with his lover’s father, and so he could compose himself.

            “I want you, your sisters, and your mother to move back in with me.” It felt like Aramis had been slapped. “I’m a new man now, Renée.”

            “How many times have you said that?!” Aramis snapped. He suddenly wanted to go home.

            “Renée-”

            “It’s Aramis, _Papi_! It’s been Aramis for five years!” Aramis had a wild shine to his eyes. “Why should I believe you’ve changed when you won’t even call me by my name, by my pronouns?!”

            “Lower your voice!” Casimir snapped quietly. “We don’t want to make a scene, do we?”

            Aramis flinched and he curled into himself again. “No,” he said in a broken whisper.

            “Aramis,” Casimir muttered sarcastically, “now that I’m out, there’s no reason for you and your sisters to live away from your mother and I.”

            Aramis couldn’t help the borderline hysterical laugh that bubbled out of his chest. Porthos looked at Aramis with concern evident in his face. “Why would we want that?”

            “Because we’re your family.”

            Aramis let out a bitter laugh. “ _Mami_ is family! Isabelle, Olivia, Biance, Salomé, and Pauline are family! Treville is family! You have _never_ been family. That’s why the girls don’t want to see you. And you can try to blame everyone else, like you normally do, but the only person whose fault this is, is your own!” Aramis stood abruptly and tugged on Porthos’s hand. “We’re leaving.”

            “Gladly,” Porthos said and he had to step on the proud smile that threatened to break across his face.

            “And another thing!” Aramis nearly shouted as he whipped around to glare at his father. “I am a proud transman who has _two_ loving and sexy _boyfriends_ that I let fuck me until I don’t even know my name. So, until you can accept that and stop making stupid, trans- and homophobic comments, don’t call or write me, the girls, or _Mami_!”

            Porthos laughed the whole way back to the car, holding Aramis’s hand tightly in his own. Once they were securely tucked into the car, with Porthos behind the wheel, and driving back home, Porthos spoke. “I’m proud of you.”

            Aramis was quiet for a long moment. “He’s going to hate me.”

            “You gonna be okay?”

            Aramis took a shaky breath before setting his hand on Porthos’s thigh. “Yeah, I think I will be.”

            “That last bit, inspired,” Porthos grinned and he couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled up.

            “Shut up, I was pissed,” Aramis muttered and he slumped in his seat.

            “I wish I’d had a camera.”

            “I said shut up,” Aramis said warningly.

            “Could have shown Atho-oh shit.” Porthos made a noise in his throat as Aramis palmed at his dick through his pants. “Not while I’m driving, Mis.”

            “Then pull over.”

            “Gladly.”

            Aramis grinned as they pulled into an empty lot. He scrambled into the back and then thought of something. “Do we still have the condoms in the glove compartment?”

            “Shit, knew I forgot something when we went to the store,” Porthos muttered as he moved to get out of the car. He wasn’t going to scramble over the seats like Aramis, he couldn’t.

            “Guess we’re just gonna have to do this the old fashioned way,” Aramis winked.

            “I’m pretty sure that _is_ the old fashioned way,” Porthos said as he moved into the back and shut the door.

            “Whatever,” Aramis said and pulled Porthos in for a biting kiss. “We’ll figure it out,” Aramis said between kisses.

            “Always do.” Porthos grinned and shifted Aramis onto his back. “And I meant what I said,” he said casually as he nipped Aramis’s neck. He kissed where Aramis’s pulse was fluttering rapidly. “About being proud of you.”

            “Porthos, while I love that you’re proud of me, can you do me a favor?” Aramis asked as he stripped off his shirt.

            “What’s that?” Porthos asked and traced his hands over Aramis’s chest and stomach.

            “Less talking, more fucking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been an idea pounding at my head, but don't worry, we'll get back to d'Artagnan in the next chapter. Comment, as always, and let me know what you thought!  
> -James


	4. Green-Eyed Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d'Artagnan meets a new friend and the boys get invited to a party.

                d’Artagnan swore as he rolled out of bed.

            He’d just looked at his clock and he’d overslept. He had ten minutes to get completely ready for school, and he was in desperate need of a shower. He grabbed up his uniform and sprinted to the bathroom. He wanted to swear as he noticed the fogged mirror. One, if not all, of the others had already showered. He pushed that thought aside as he closed the door and stripped his clothes off.

            He turned the water on and while he was waiting for it to warm up he brushed his teeth. He moved over to the shower and stuck his hand under the spray. “For fuck’s sake!” He had to bite his lip as he shut the water off to keep from letting out a string of curses. The water was still ice cold, he’d have to skip the shower today. He went over to the sink, quickly washed his face, and pulled his clothes on. He was running a hand through his hair, silently grateful that it _felt_ clean which probably meant it looked alright, when he grabbed up his book bag.

            He pulled on socks and stumbled down the stairs. He was breathless as he tugged his shoes on and sprinted out to where Athos, Porthos, and Aramis were already waiting. “Sorry,” he panted as he slid to a stop beside Aramis. “Alarm didn’t go off.”

            “We can see that,” Athos said with a small smile. d’Artagnan ducked his head as they started towards their school.

            It wasn’t a long walk and d’Artagnan was thankful for that. The others were sending him strange looks and Athos was nearly _grinning_ at him. d’Artagnan was glad when he slipped towards his classes and away from the others. He settled into his customary seat in the back and was pulling out his notebook when he heard someone clear their throat. He glanced over to see a slim girl smiling at him.

            “d’Artagnan, right?” She asked and tucked her blonde hair behind her ears.

            “Yeah…”

            “I just thought you might want to know,” she said and bit her lip. “Your hair is standing on end.”

            “What?” d’Artagnan felt his face get hot. Now the funny looks from the others made sense. He scrambled to try and flatten his hair.

            She let out a small laugh and gently took his hands away and did it herself. “There, that’s at least a little better.” She smiled at him. d’Artagnan felt a whole other kind of heat crawl up his neck.

            “Thanks…” he trailed off, his voice slight higher than normal, as he didn’t know the girl’s name.

            “Lucie,” she supplied and smiled at him. “And it’s no trouble. I’ll see you around?” She asked and there was a spark of hope in her pretty dark eyes.

            “Definitely.”

…..

            d’Artagnan had nearly forgotten about that morning until they had their break for lunch. He’d grabbed his lunch and was about to head to his usual table with Aramis, Porthos, Athos, and Constance, but he stopped when Lucie waved him over. “Hey,” he grinned and she smiled at him.

            “Hi,” she said and gestured to the seat next to her. “I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to sit together and we could go over that last English lesson?”

            “Sounds fun,” d’Artagnan said. He hated English, but speaking it with someone at his level who seemed to also be struggling a little seemed fun. He settled next to her and they both immediately struck up a conversation.

            Across the cafeteria, Athos was scowling and glaring at Lucie like he hoped his level of concentration would set her on fire.

            “Athos… what are you doing?” Constance asked and glanced between Athos and where she could see d’Artagnan and a very pretty girl laughing and talking as they studied a book together.

            “He’s just jealous,” Aramis said simply and took a bite of his apple. He didn’t even flinch when Athos turned his glare to him. He shrugged casually as Athos opened his mouth to protest. “Understandably so. If I caught one of you two,” he said glancing between Athos and Porthos, “talking to a girl like that… I might get a little jealous too.”

            “Except,” Porthos pointed out, “you’re dating us and Athos is not dating d’Artagnan.” Porthos shook his head as he watched Athos carefully as the smaller man turned back to watching d’Artagnan and the pretty blonde. “Unless there’s something you’d like to tell us.”

            “No,” Athos snapped suddenly as he stood. “But I think I just lost my appetite.” He shoved his apple into his pocket and shoved his food towards the others knowing they wouldn’t let it go to waste.

            Porthos and Constance both frowned at each other before watching Athos storm out.

            “Oh shit,” Aramis breathed and the two of them turned to see what Aramis was looking at. The girl was pulling back from what had obviously been a kiss on the cheek. d’Artagnan’s eyes were anchored to her lips though and even from this distance, they could see the bright red that had colored his ears. “We’re in for it.”

            “No,” Porthos shook his head. “Athos turned him down.”

            “He’s already tried to hook up with Athos?” Constance asked in an incredulous whisper.

            “Not hook up with, per say,” Aramis said and chewed his apple thoughtfully. “Just suggested they could shower together.”

            Constance choked on her drink.

            “Athos is a handsome guy,” Porthos shrugged. “We weren’t all that surprised. Especially since it was just after Athos was teaching him to fence. Athos is a hands-on teacher.” Porthos gave Constance a wolfish grin and she grimaced.

            “I really don’t need the details of you three’s sex life.”

            “Come on, Constance.” Aramis grinned but his heart wasn’t in the teasing. He had a thought worrying at the back of his mind. Athos had never shown interest in anyone outside of their little trio, and for some reason that made Aramis inexplicably nervous. He was watching d’Artagnan thoughtfully for the rest of lunch.

            “Aramis?” Porthos’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “You coming?”

            “Yeah,” Aramis said and finished up his apple. He nodded resolutely as he came to the conclusion that if Athos wanted to include d’Artagnan in their relationship, or just wanted to pursue him by himself, Aramis would be alright with that. Though his heart sank as the girl, who truly was beautiful Aramis thought with a touch of envy, scrawled something, presumably her number, onto d’Artagnan’s wrist.

            Porthos slung an arm around Aramis’s shoulder and his thoughts turned away from d’Artagnan and his mystery girl as Porthos and Constance bickered about the subject of their next class.

…..

            d’Artagnan grinned at his phone as he read the text from Lucie. She was talking about a beach party that she was planning on. It was just to get a break and soak up the last of the warm weather.

_Sounds like fun_

_You want to come?_

            d’Artagnan bit his lip and thought for a moment. He wanted to spend time with her, and he loved the beach, but did he really want to go to a party where he didn’t know anyone?

_Can I bring some friends? Not too many just the three guys I live with and Constance?_

_Sure! The more the merrier and all that ;)_

            d’Artagnan’s grin made his cheeks ache. He tucked his phone into his pocket and headed downstairs. He’d need to ask Treville and the others. “Can I talk to you for a second?” d’Artagnan asked Treville as the man went about cooking.

            “Of course, d’Artagnan. Any time.” He glanced over at the teen as he perched on the counter.

            “There’s this party, and I was hoping that maybe I could go?” d’Artagnan bit his lip and rubbed his hands on his pants.

            “Where at and who with?”

            “It’s at the beach and with a friend from school, Lucie. She’s inviting her friends and she told me I could invite Athos, Aramis, Porthos, and Constance. I was going to ask them next.”

            Treville looked at him for a moment and then shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

            “Thank you!” d’Artagnan slipped down off the counter and sprinted out into the yard where the boys were all practicing their fencing. “Hey!” d’Artagnan said and vaulted over the railing to drop into the grass.

            “One day you’re going to break your neck!” Athos shouted back with a disapproving headshake.

            “But not today,” d’Artagnan laughed. “There’s a party at the beach this weekend. You all want to go? And Constance is invited too.”

            Aramis grinned. “Sounds like fun, what do you think boys?” Aramis asked and let his arm drop down from _en guarde_ position.

            Porthos nodded. “I’ve always liked the beach.”

            Athos seemed to hesitate. He looked between d’Artagnan and the others with a spark of something in his eyes. “I’m not one for parties,” Athos mumbled and shrugged.

            “Come on, Athos!” d’Artagnan pouted. “It’ll be fun. Even if we get bored of the people we can just go swimming. Please?”

            Athos swallowed thickly before relenting. “Alright, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” d’Artagnan felt warmth spread into his toes at Athos’s small smile.

            “I’ll tell Constance!” He whooped as he shot off to head back inside and call the girl next door.

            “I saw that,” Porthos muttered to Athos and bumped their shoulders together.

            “Shut up,” Athos muttered. “If you paid half as much attention to Aramis’s moves as to you do to me, you might actually be able to beat him.” Porthos made an indignant noise as he put his mask back on.

            “Touchy,” Aramis teased. “Or maybe not touchy, and that’s the problem.” He winked at Athos before he put his mask back on.

            “Shut up!” Athos snapped and he could feel his cheeks burning.

            Both of them had the good sense to let the subject drop.

…..

            Saturday came quickly and d’Artagnan was bouncing as Aramis dug through his clothes for a pair of swim shorts that d’Artagnan could wear. “Here,” Aramis grinned in triumph. “These are the best ones I’ve got.”

            d’Artagnan caught them when Aramis tossed them to him. “Thanks.”

            “Make sure they fit.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and stripped off his shirt, tossing it onto his bed. He wiggled out of his jeans and underwear and laid them on the bed. He pulled on the swim shorts and tied the string. “How do they look?” He turned around and when he locked eyes with Aramis, it made his stomach go warm.

            Aramis’s eyes dragging over his body felt like a physical touch. d’Artagnan tried hard not to shudder. “You look great.”

            “Thanks to you, as always.”

            “How about this, I’m going to make you look irresistible. Lucie won’t be able to keep her eyes off of you,” Aramis grinned and he took d’Artagnan’s shoulders and guided him to sit at the desk.

            “You don’t have to do that,” d’Artagnan said and while the thought of Lucie still gave him butterflies, it didn’t make him want to go through any extra effort. “When I go into the water it’ll just mess up anyway.”

            Aramis hummed in thought as he messed with d’Artagnan’s hair. “Fair enough. Besides, I don’t have any waterproof hair product.” He pulled a face at d’Artagnan which made the younger laugh. “Let’s get going.” He clapped d’Artagnan’s shoulder before he pulled on a hoodie and walked over to see if Porthos and Athos were ready.

            d’Artagnan grabbed a shirt, it was warm and he hardly thought it’d be getting cold, and pulled it on. He checked his hair in the mirror before he walked out and nearly tripped over his own feet as he took in the three in the hallway. Aramis he’d already seen in the swim shorts that clung low on his hips and in a hoodie, Porthos was in his own swim shorts with a mostly unbuttoned flannel shirt on, and Athos was wearing his swim shorts low on his hips as well with his fencing hoodie hanging open. d’Artagnan was sure that if his mouth wasn’t so dry all of a sudden, he would have choked on his own spit.

            “You should grab a jacket, the temperature is supposed to dip when the sun goes down,” Athos said as he tucked his sunglasses into his pocket.

            “I’ll be fine,” d’Artagnan managed to choke out.

            Aramis shrugged. “Alright then, let’s go.”

…..

            Constance met them outside the car and she whistled as she looked them up and down. Athos huffed a laugh through his nose as d’Artagnan’s ears turned red and Aramis winked at her. Porthos slid into the front seat and Athos took up his usual position in the driver’s seat. Aramis, d’Artagnan, and Constance crammed into the small backseat, their legs tangling awkwardly. The car was filled chatter easily but as they approached the beach they trailed off. They parked and d’Artagnan slipped out. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent Lucie a quick text as they started out toward the sand.

            Athos watched him as he answered the call that came in. The smile that instantly lit up his face made Athos’s stomach twist in jealousy. He shook his head. He had no right to be feeling possessive for two reasons. One, he and d’Artagnan weren’t together, and two, he’d been the one to turn d’Artagnan down. He pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on to shade his eyes.

            “We’ll be right there!” d’Artagnan said and then laughed at whatever Lucie had said. He hung up and tucked his phone back into his pocket. “She’s down this way,” he said and waved his hand for the others to follow.

            Athos took a breath, a frown trying to pull at his mouth, and started to follow after d’Artagnan. He nearly jumped when he felt Constance slip her arm through his. When he glanced over at her, she just patted his arm.

            He glanced over to his other side to see Porthos and Aramis walking hand-in-hand, swinging their arms as if they didn’t have a care in the world. Athos wished he could just relax like that. Maybe when they got settled at this party he’d be fine.

…..

            Aramis grinned as d’Artagnan introduced them to Lucie, the pretty blonde girl, and Aramis was almost disappointed that she was so nice. Soon though d’Artagnan was being pulled away from them by Lucie so she could introduce him to more people.

            Aramis moved over to drape his arm around Athos’s waist. “Wanna go for a swim?”

            Athos shrugged. “Do you?” He asked and raised an eyebrow.

            “If it means I get to see you all wet,” Aramis grinned, “then definitely.”

            Athos barked out a laugh and swatted Aramis’s hand away when it slid down to grasp at his butt. “Alright, alright.” He shook his head and pulled his phone from his pocket and slid it into his hoodie pocket. He slid the hoodie off and Constance took it, putting it in her beach bag. “Thank you,” he said and then he and Aramis, who’d left his hoodie in the car, walked towards the water’s edge.

            Athos had never been a big swimmer, but he liked the water well enough. Aramis on the other hand loved the water and he took Athos’s hand and pulled him along until they were up to their waists.

            Athos let his eyes scan over the shore. Porthos and Constance were laying out the blanket she’d brought, and Athos found d’Artagnan in a clump of people. He tensed and Aramis leaned into him. “He’s allowed to have other friends,” Aramis said and he pressed a placating kiss to Athos’s cheek.

            “I know,” Athos said. He frowned as someone handed d’Artagnan a plastic cup filled with wine. Athos suddenly felt like coming here had been a bad idea.

            Aramis raised and looked over to see what was making Athos frown. He cringed and took both of Athos’s hands in his own. “Are you going to be okay to be here?”

            Athos forced a smile onto his face. “Of course, I’ll just keep away from the drinks.”

            Aramis watched him hesitantly. “You want me to tell d’Artagnan not to drink?”

            Athos wanted to say yes, wanted to storm over to d’Artagnan himself and snatch the alcohol from his hands and dump it into the trash, but he made himself relax. d’Artagnan was of age, he was allowed to drink wine if he wanted. But the thought of d’Artagnan and alcohol made Athos’s stomach churn. “It’s fine,” Athos said and stamped down on his protective instincts. “Let him have some fun. We’ll keep an eye on him.” Athos kissed Aramis softly and brushed their noses together. Aramis seemed to relax but Athos couldn’t.

            Eventually Porthos and Constance joined them. Porthos leaned over and kissed the top of Athos’s head, having already clocked the alcohol and Athos’s reaction to it. “I brought waters,” Constance said with a reassuring touch of her hand to his, “or, and this is only if you want to get r _eally_ crazy, some juice.” She grinned at Athos and he felt himself smile weakly in return at seeing her tongue poking through her teeth in that familiar bright smile.

            “Thank you, Constance.” He gave her hand a squeeze.

            “Any time, Athos.”

…..

            “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Lucie said to d’Artagnan as she watched d’Artagnan watch his friends, “but what’s up with those three?”

            “What do you mean?” d’Artagnan asked and took another drink. The alcohol warmed his stomach and made him feel loose. He felt at ease for the first time in a while.

            “Porthos, Athos, and Aramis.” Lucie sipped her beer prettily and d’Artagnan watched as her tongue flicked out to swipe the remnants of beer from her lips. He swallowed thickly and tuned back in to what she was saying. “-can’t tell whether they’re all together or Aramis just flits between the two of them.” Her light laugh didn’t sit right with d’Artagnan.

            “Would either be such a bad thing?” There was an edge of protective defensiveness in his tone.

            “Oh no!” Lucie shook her head and touched d’Artagnan’s arm. It burned even through his shirt. “I’m just curious is all. I hadn’t thought that Athos would be with anyone, he’s so… serious.” She made a face resembling Athos’s usual scowl and d’Artagnan laughed at that.

            d’Artagnan shrugged. “Never asked because it’s none of my business really.” He knew that Porthos and Aramis at least were having sex on the regular and Athos kissed them both so casually, but he figured maybe that was just the way they worked. He shrugged again and finished his drink, tossing the cup into the garbage.

            “Well,” Lucie said and she bit her lip.

            “What?” d’Artagnan asked and tilted his head to look at her better.

            “I was more curious to know because… well-” She flushed a pretty pink and d’Artagnan couldn’t help but smile.

            “What is it?” He asked with a faint laugh.

            “Alright, I’ll just be forward.” She flicked her hair over her shoulder and stared d’Artagnan straight in the eye. “I wanted to know because I wanted to know if you were together with any or all of them too.” d’Artagnan balked. “Because I like you, d’Artagnan.” There was a long moment of silence. “So?”

            “No,” d’Artagnan shook his head. “I’m single.”

            “And straight?” She crossed her fingers teasingly.

            He laughed and shook his head. “Nope,” he said. Her face fell and he quickly continued to cover himself. “Not straight, but bi.”

            Her face lit up at that and she let out a huff of breath. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t completely embarrass myself there.” She let her fingers brush against d’Artagnan’s wrist and they tentatively entwined their fingers.

            “Never,” he said and gave her fingers a gentle squeeze. He brought her hand up and kissed it with a smile. “So.”

            “So,” she said back and leaned into his side.

            “Anything else you wanted to ask me?” d’Artagnan asked with a grin.

            “Just one thing. Can I kiss you?”

            d’Artagnan’s breath caught in his chest and he hesitated. He frowned internally at that. Why was he hesitating? Lucie was beautiful and funny and smart and _she_ wanted to kiss him. But something in him said it was a betrayal of Athos and Aramis and Porthos. He pushed that aside angrily. He didn’t owe them anything. Athos had openly rejected him and the other two didn’t seem like they wanted anything besides each other.

            “Of course,” d’Artagnan said and she got on her toes to kiss him. It was chaste and softer than d’Artagnan had imagined, but still enough to send electricity jolting over his skin. He smiled and tried to ignore the feeling of people looking at them.

…..

            The sun had started to go down so Aramis and Constance, always cold, and Porthos, always following after Aramis, had gotten out of the water.

            Athos was just trying not to stare.

            He was failing.

            But in his defense, Aramis and d’Artagnan had made his difficult not to.

            d’Artagnan had finally shed his shirt and slipped into the water with Lucie at his side. His hair was standing on end after he’d pushed it away from his eyes and water dripped onto his shoulders. And that was Athos’s downfall. Even with the distance that was between them, Athos could trace the path of the water droplets as they caught the setting sun and rolled down d’Artagnan’s chest.

            Athos hadn’t longed for a drink so badly in nearly a year.

            His head felt too clear to be dealing with the rush of images, thoughts, and feelings that a wet, practically naked, d’Artagnan presented. His mouth had also gone ridiculously dry, so he moved away from the edge of the water and over to the cooler. Constance had nestled her waters and juices among the beers. His fingers itched to grab a beer, even though he hated beer, but he forced himself to grab a water. He gulped down a few mouthfuls and scanned his eyes over the beach to find Aramis and Porthos.

            They were near the bonfire that’d been lit. Athos felt a sense of relief at seeing them chatting amiably with others huddled around the fire. Athos turned away with a warmth in his chest that, when he spotted d’Artagnan, quickly shot down to his groin.

            d’Artagnan was laughing brightly, his face flushed with exertion and alcohol consumption, as he chased after Lucie. When he caught her around the waist she was swept off her feet. Athos hated how pretty she was as d’Artagnan set her down and she moved to face him and wrap her arms around his neck. Athos’s fingers twitched as Lucie played with the short hairs at the nape of d’Artagnan’s neck, something Athos had found himself wanting to do.

            Athos gaped as they brushed their noses together. Athos bit his lip, thinking that he should be looking away now since it was obviously about to become a kiss, feeling a strange mix of arousal and jealousy curling in his stomach.

            d’Artagnan let his hands rest on her waist innocently, their chests a respectable distance apart, but the actual kiss itself was anything but innocent Athos noted as he saw a brief flash of tongue and teeth. When they parted Athos knew he should look away before he got caught, but he didn’t.

            So d’Artagnan turned and caught Athos staring.

            Athos flushed as he saw d’Artagnan’s gaze slide over his body, the younger man’s smile dimming. Athos could only imagine how awkward it had to be for d’Artagnan. He’d just turned away from a clearly amazing kiss to see Athos staring at him and obviously half-hard. Athos cursed his tight swim shorts. d’Artagnan’s tongue darted out to wet his kiss-swollen lips and Athos couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. It made his skin hot and itchy in the best and worst ways.

            He spotted Constance laying out in the dying rays of the sun. He moved over and settled next to her quietly. She looked at him over the rims of her sunglasses with a smirk. “You’ve checked up on d’Artagnan I see.”

            “Shut up,” Athos muttered and brought his legs up to his chest so that he could block her view to his crotch.

            “You should just talk to him,” she sighed heavily and moved her hair out of her eyes.

            “I can’t.” Athos shook his head. “He likes her, obviously.” Athos sighed. “Besides, I have Aramis and Porthos, who I…” Athos’s throat felt tight but Constance knew what he was trying to say.

            “But he’s part of that too,” Constance sat up and knocked their shoulders together.

            “I can’t think like that,” Athos shook his head. “He’s happy the way he is.” Constance rolled her eyes but didn’t argue with him further. He reached over and grabbed his hoodie and pulled it on to ward off the sudden chill now that his blood was beginning to cool.

            Aramis and Porthos joined them after a while and noticed the way Athos was resolutely keeping quiet. Aramis, Porthos, and Constance kept up a quiet stream of mindless conversation that Athos tuned out.

            It wasn’t until d’Artagnan finally returned to them, Lucie over at the cooler, that Athos tuned back in. “Having fun?” d’Artagnan asked and looked between the four of them eagerly. Athos felt a sick feeling settle in his stomach at the slight glazed look in d’Artagnan’s eyes that spoke of how much he’d had to drink.

            “It’s been fun,” Aramis smiled diplomatically as Porthos too eyed d’Artagnan warily. “We should go though, it’s starting to get late and Treville will want us home soon.”

            “Actually,” d’Artagnan said and he suddenly looked sheepish. “Lucie invited me over, and I was wondering if you could cover for me.”

            Even Aramis looked outraged.

            Athos felt an eerie sort of calm wash over him. “Are you going to have sex with her?”

            d’Artagnan’s cheeks colored and Porthos choked on his exhale. “Athos!” He scolded but Aramis just set a hand on Porthos’s thigh to quiet him.

            “I dunno, maybe.” d’Artagnan shrugged and he bit his lip. His brow furrowed as he watched Athos. “None of your business even if I did.” He pushed himself up suddenly and shook his head. d’Artagnan scoffed as he started toward the cooler and Athos scrambled up and after him.

            “Athos…” Constance said but Athos ignored her as he stormed after the other young man.

            “We’re not covering for you because you’re coming home with us,” Athos said and grabbed d’Artagnan’s wrist.

            “What’s your problem?!” d’Artagnan snarled and shoved Athos’s hand off him.

            “You!” Athos scowled. “You’re acting like an idiot just because some girl made eyes at you!”

            “What do you care?” Athos’s breath caught in his chest at the mix of anger and the glimmer of hope in d’Artagnan’s eyes.

            “Because… I…” Athos fumbled and made to grab d’Artagnan again. He just wanted to haul d’Artagnan back to the car so he could sleep off what he’d drank and maybe have his good sense return.

            d’Artagnan laughed bitterly and stepped out of Athos’s reach. “I’ll take my chances with Treville then.”

            Athos was struck speechless. d’Artagnan was going to go home with this girl. He was going to kiss her. He was going to have sex with her. It made him feel like he’d been set on fire and doused in ice water all at the same time.

            “If you do this,” he heard himself saying in a quiet tone, “we will never forgive you.”

            d’Artagnan let out a breath like he’d been punched and his eyes glazed over with tears. He blinked them away and grit his teeth. “Fine,” he muttered and stomped off. Athos slumped and he turned his eyes down to his feet so he wouldn’t have to see d’Artagnan with Lucie. He turned away and walked back to the others.

            “We’re going home,” he said and offered his hand to Constance. Constance took it and pulled herself up.

            “Athos-”

            “No, let him go if he wants,” Athos said shaking his head.

            Porthos looked like he wanted to say something, whether it was to contradict Athos or comfort him Athos didn’t know, but he slowly shut his mouth and they started gathering up their stuff quietly.

            They all drifted to the car in subdued silence that felt nearly suffocating. Athos passed on driving and settled into the back seat. Porthos slid in to drive and Aramis and Constance flanked Athos. He let himself slump into them miserably.

            He’d turned down d’Artagnan because he never knew how the other two would feel about him branching out in their relationship. They assured him that it was alright. Aramis constantly went on dates with girls and boys outside of their relationship and neither Porthos nor Athos got upset with him. So, of course, Athos too was allowed. It had just felt so strange because he’d never wanted or needed anyone outside of Aramis and Porthos. It’d felt like betrayal and so he’d turned d’Artagnan down. He regretted it now more than ever because he might have just lost d’Artagnan as a friend as well.

…..

            d’Artagnan grinned as he and Lucie stumbled toward her room. She ran her fingers through his hair and he shivered into their kiss as she closed her bedroom door behind them and pushed him up against the door. He made an appreciative noise when she nipped his bottom lip sharply.

            His thoughts suddenly echoed with Athos’s voice.

            _If you do this we will never forgive you_.

            He pulled back from the kiss and tried to catch his breath. When Lucie took it as her opportunity to be able to untie the strings of his swim shorts he caught her hands. “Wait…”

            “What is it?” She asked and looked at him in concern.

            “I… maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

            “What do you mean?” She frowned at him and bit her lip.

            “Maybe we’re taking this a little quickly?” d’Artagnan couldn’t tell her the actual reason he was hesitating. He couldn’t tell her that he was half in love with someone else.

            “We can slow down if you like,” she said and trailed her hands up his arms. He shuddered and let his eyes slip shut. She kissed him slower this time and her touches were lighter, less demanding. But it still felt wrong.

            “No,” d’Artagnan said and broke away. “I should get home, Treville, my foster father, he’ll be worried.” He flexed his hands nervously as she took a step back from him.

            “Can I not convince you to stay?” She asked and reached behind her to pull the string holding her bikini top on. She flicked it to the side effortlessly and with no trace of self-consciousness. d’Artagnan swallowed thickly forcing his eyes away from the expanse of bare, save for a light smattering of freckles, skin in front of him.

            “I…” d’Artagnan said and studied her eyes carefully. He knew he needed to say something, make a decision, but his brain was so muddled that he just stared and did nothing, said nothing. He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger but if I hadn't this chapter would have been incredibly long and taken LOADS of time to finish. It's already nearly twice as long as the other chapters so...  
> There's a lot going on in this one and d'Artagnan has a choice coming up. Hope you all liked it and aren't too made about the way it's been parceled up. Comment and tell me what you think!  
> -James


	5. We Can Work To Work It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Issues get resolved but tension still blankets our boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied sex where all parties are underage in this chapter, just giving you a heads up!

                Aramis had just returned from church and was about to head into his room when he heard the door open and shut and then Treville’s voice.

            “Charles d’Artagnan, where the hell have you been?!” Aramis flinched at the mix of pure anger, worry, and frustration in Treville’s voice. Aramis wanted to listen but he decided it would be best if he just left them to it.

            He stepped into Porthos’s rooms, where he, Athos and Porthos had spent the night, and he frowned as Porthos was the only one still in bed. Aramis unbuttoned his shirt and settled on the edge of the bed. He ran his hand through Porthos’s hair and kissed up his neck to gently wake him up. Porthos hummed and then rolled onto his back to stare at Aramis sleepily, “Mornin’,” he slurred and rubbed at his eyes.

            “Morning,” Aramis smiled and kissed Porthos softly. “Where’s Athos?” He set his hand over the place where Athos’s imprint was still in the pillow.

            Porthos frowned, suddenly more awake, and sighed. “He’s at a meeting.”

            Aramis gaped and he couldn’t keep the shock from his face.

            Athos only ever went to meetings when he was stressed out so badly that he was thinking about drinking again.

            It made Aramis feel sick to his stomach. “d’Artagnan just got back,” Aramis said and tossed his shirt aside. He wiggled out of his pants and kicked them aside before curling up with Porthos.

            “I think I heard,” Porthos said and he pressed a kiss to Aramis’s hair.

            “Treville was yelling,” Aramis said quietly. “I don’t like it.”

            “I know, but Treville’s just worried. He’s not really angry.” Porthos rubbed Aramis’s back. “We can’t even hear them anymore.” Aramis listened and nodded.

…..

            Treville scowled at d’Artagnan as the boy slumped into a kitchen chair. “Explain, now.” He moved over to the fridge and got out the carton of orange juice. He handed the carton and a glass to d’Artagnan. Treville didn’t like how pale and upset the boy looked.

            “Lucie invited me to her house after the party,” d’Artagnan said and kept his eyes down as he poured a glass. He rolled it between his hands and didn’t drink it. “I went with her.”

            “Why?” Treville demanded sharply, his hands on his hips.

            “I was going to sleep with her,” d’Artagnan said honestly.

            Treville felt like he’d been slapped. He shook his head to clear it and bit his lip. “Did you?” d’Artagnan’s eyes welled up with tears as he finally looked up. Treville felt his heart clench as the boy didn’t say anything. “Charlie…” Treville said softly and he bit his lip.

            The tears rolled down his cheeks and he just let out a shaky breath. “No, I didn’t. I couldn’t. It just hurt so much that I couldn’t even think about it!” He was shaking and crying as he moved to swipe at his tears. “Athos… Athos said-” d’Artagnan covered his mouth to keep in another sob.

            Treville moved over and hugged d’Artagnan tightly. He cradled the back of d’Artagnan’s head as the boy clung onto his shirt. “Shh,” Treville soothed and rubbed d’Artagnan’s back. “It’s alright.”

            “Athos said,” d’Artagnan hiccuped. “Athos said he’d never forgive me, that none of them would.”

            “But you didn’t do anything,” he reminded and smoothed his hand over the boy’s hair.

            d’Artagnan slowly calmed down again and he pulled away from Treville embarrassedly. Treville let him pull away.

            “So, you didn’t sleep with the girl. Where were you then?” Treville settled back into his chair and he waited as d’Artagnan took a drink of his juice.

            “I left her house and wandered for a long time.” d’Artagnan traced the lines of the table and sighed heavily. “When I finally was tired, I found a place to crash, a shelter.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Didn’t sleep much though.”

            “I can tell,” Treville said and looked d’Artagnan up and down. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked drawn and exhausted. “Go upstairs, shower, and then get some rest.” He gave the boy a weak smile.

            d’Artagnan drained his glass of juice and stood. “Is… are they…?”

            “Athos is out and the other two are up in their rooms I assume,” Treville said and clapped his shoulder. The boy relaxed instantly and nodded. He headed up the stairs wearily and Treville waited until he was out of sight to pull out his phone.

_When you get home, talk to d’Artagnan._

            Athos didn’t reply to Treville for a while but when he did it made Treville feel uneasy.

 _Maybe_.

            Treville frowned and shook his head as he moved about his normal routine of making breakfast for the boys. It helped steady him as he slowly heard the sounds of the boys waking up upstairs. Aramis was the first to come down and he smiled at Treville before he moved to get something to drink.

            “Need any help?” Aramis asked and perched on the counter next to where Treville was cooking.

            “Not yet,” Treville said and poked at the eggs in the pan.

            “Is everything okay?” Aramis asked and the way he curled in on himself made Treville pause.

            “You heard us then?”

            “I only heard your shout, at the beginning,” Aramis admitted and Treville set a hand on Aramis’s knee.

            “I didn’t yell after that,” Treville assured him. “And I’m sorry if my yelling upset you.” Aramis shrugged and Treville patted his knee. “I was worried.”

            “I know.”

            “So is he alright?”

            “He’s shaky,” Treville said honestly and took the eggs off the heat so he could put them into a bowl. “He’s scared.” Aramis frowned but didn’t ask, knowing that Treville wouldn’t go into the particulars. It wasn’t his place to. Porthos walked into the kitchen and moved to kiss Aramis briefly before patting Treville’s shoulder.

            “He okay?” Porthos asked and nodded toward the stairs.

            Treville nodded. “As he can be. How was Athos? I didn’t get to talk to him before he rushed out.”

            “He’s… not great,” Porthos said and crossed his arms. “He went to a meeting.”

            “ _Merde_ ,” Treville swore under his breath. “That bad?”

            “Apparently.”

…..

            Athos fiddled with his sleeve. “Athos.”

            He lifted his head and Sylvie frowned at him. “What?” He asked and went back to fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt.

            “The whole point of you being here is for you to talk,” Sylvie pointed out and took his hand away from his sleeve.

            “Talk about what?” Athos asked. He’d made progress but he didn’t feel like putting forth the effort to truly participate so he was back sliding into his old habits.

            “Athos,” Sylvie said again warningly.

            He sighed and sat up straighter, looking her in the eye. “Fine, I’m here because I was at a party with alcohol and I wanted a drink more than I have in the last three years. The reason I wanted to drown myself in cheap beer, which I hated even when I was allowed to drink, was because I felt guilty for rejecting one of the few people I give a shit about apart from Aramis and Porthos. Happy? Have I shared enough?” Athos growled.

            Sylvie just nodded, used to Athos’s frustrated outbursts. “Why did you reject them then?”

            “He’s…” Athos slumped and shook his head. “I don’t know.” Athos shrugged and Sylvie stayed silent, letting Athos work through it in his head before he spoke aloud. “I never thought I’d want anyone beside Aramis and Porthos. I never needed anyone after them. Two years is a long time to be content with the two people you love, and then here comes this gangly kid with an attitude problem and I fall head over ass in love.” He shook his head. There was no other way to describe how he felt about d’Artagnan. “It felt like betrayal and then,” Athos scoffed and rolled his eyes at himself for not seeing it, “Aramis and Porthos give me _permission_. But I’d already fucked everything up. It was, is, too late.”

            “You don’t know that,” Sylvie said.

            “Except that he was kissing this girl at the party all night long. He even went home with her,” Athos said and his voice cracked. He ducked his head to stare at his feet. “Hence why I wanted to drown everything out.”

            “You feel guilty about having feelings for this guy, but you also feel guilty for rejecting him.” Sylvie summed it up and made it seem so simple. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

            Athos hesitated. What _could_ he do about it? “Well… there’s one more thing.”

            “Whenever you have the sheepish tone,” Sylvie said with a long suffering tone, “I always want to slap you for what you’ve done.”

            “I told him that we wouldn’t forgive him if he slept with her,” Athos said quietly and Sylve let out a long whistle.

            “Are you going to forgive him?”

            “If he asks me, I don’t think I’d ever be able to say no.”

            “Damn, you got it bad, Athos.”

            Athos slumped in his chair. Sylvie slumped as well and they both fell into a commiserating silence.

            “I should get home,” Athos said and he let his head fall back against his chair with a thud.

            “You should talk to him,” Sylvie said sternly. “You need to fix this before it becomes even more of a problem.”

            Athos groaned and shook his head. “Not you too.”

            “Me too?”

            “Treville texted me during group session telling me I needed to talk to d’Artagnan.”

            “He’s right. I knew I liked him.” Athos shot her a glare but her grin didn’t dim under his icy stare. “Go on then,” Sylvie said and kicked at his leg. “And if you need me, even outside of meeting times, call. Always.”

            Athos nodded and he slowly pushed himself to stand. “Alright, I will.”

            “See you later?”

            “We’ll see how it goes.”

            Athos walked home instead of taking the bus like he had to get there. He kicked at a rock and watched it skittered along the nearly empty sidewalk. He was drawn into his own head as he wandered the familiar way back to Treville’s house.

            _He and Thomas were laughing brightly, too brightly to be sober, as they sprinted through the empty corridors of the too large, empty house. They could hear a feminine voice calling encouragements to them and it made Athos’s already rapidly beating heart beat faster._

_“Whoever catches me can have me!” It sent a spark of heat down Athos’s spine and he redoubled his efforts to catch her. He and Thomas were both shoving at each other and trying to trip each other as they rounded a corner. Thomas fell and Athos slid to a stop despite the hot coil of desire in his stomach. Taking care of his brother came before their sex games._

_“Thomas, are you alright?” Athos asked and knelt down next to where his brother was crumpled onto the floor._

_Thomas sprang up and vaulted over Athos to get a head start. “When will you not fall for that, Ollie?!”_

_“Tommy!” Athos shouted indignantly at the trick. Thomas’s laugh made Athos laugh as well as they returned to their game._

_Thomas, of course, won and she swept him in for a hot kiss that made Athos burn from his hair to his toes. “Let’s not forget Olivier, though,” she purred and pulled Athos in by the front of his shirt. She glanced at Thomas over her shoulder and he was straining to keep still, to keep away from her magnetism. “He would have won if you hadn’t have tricked him, Thomas.” Her kiss felt like a burn as he forced himself to keep his hands at his sides. She pulled back and stepped away. “But I did say whoever caught me first, and that was Thomas.” She held out her hand for Thomas and he eagerly took it. “Wait here, Olivier.”_

            Athos shuddered and pushed away the memory. He didn’t want to think about Thomas right now, and he never wanted to think of _her_ again. But by letting one memory through he’d opened the flood gates.

            _“Olivier,” she purred and pressed kisses along his cheek and then down his neck., “you’ve made another mistake.” He let out a shaky breath. He’d been doing his math homework and the numbers kept getting jumbled in his head with each press of her mouth to his skin._

_“I’m sorry,” he breathed._

_“It’s alright,” she said. He made a nearly pained noise as she bit at his neck harshly. “But you know that Thomas never gets so distracted, even when I do this.” Athos nodded and he swallowed thickly. “I even blew him under the table as he read A Tale of Two Cities to me, in English. Not even a stutter.”_

_“I know, he’s so smart,” Athos said sarcastically and moved back to his homework. Her comment was meant to sting and it did. Thomas had been his parents’ favorite and now he was hers._

_“Oh, don’t be like that, Olivier,” she said and moved so that she could tilt his chin up to look at her. “I love you and Thomas equally.” Athos frowned and tried to pull away from her. He suddenly just wanted to finish up his work. “Olivier,” she said sharply and he looked up at her. “Do you not believe me?”_

_He panicked. “No, I do I just… I need to finish this up.” He felt a swell of anxiety as she didn’t say anything for a long time._

_“Of course, love.” She kissed him and then moved back to her position behind him so she could watch his progress. It felt like all the heat had melted away and was replaced with ice._

            Athos felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and he had a sudden pang of longing to talk to his brother. He debated it for a moment and stopped walking. He was only a few minutes away from the house and he was sure the moment he walked in it’d become all about his and d’Artagnan’s problem. He pulled out his phone and pulled up Thomas’s name in his contacts. He hesitated for a long time before he tapped the call button.

            He pressed it to his ear and closed his eyes as he listened to it ring. A jolt of panic ran through him as he suddenly thought that Thomas might not want to talk to him, or that he might not be awake. He was just about to hang up when the phone was answered.

            “Ollie,” Thomas said and Athos could hear the slight surprise in his brother’s voice. “I wasn’t expecting you to call, how are you?”

            “Hey, Tommy,” Athos said and he hated how raw his voice sounded. He was older, he was supposed to be the strong one, the one that kept everything together.

            “Ollie, what’s wrong?” Thomas’s voice was serious.

            “Nothing,” Athos said and ran a hand over his face. “Just-I was thinking about… about her. It just made me want to talk to you.”

            “Oh,” Thomas said and Athos could hear him shift the phone to his other ear. “You’re sure you’re okay? You haven’t been drinking have you?”

            “No, have you?”

            “No. I’m still sober.” Athos could hear the proud smile tugging at his brother’s lips. “So…”

            “So.” Athos sighed.

            “What have you been up to since Easter?”

            Athos took a breath before he finally started to tell his brother everything.

…..

            Athos felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders as he walked into Treville’s. He toed off his shoes and hung them up on the rack before he took a breath. He could smell breakfast and so he wandered into the kitchen.

            Everyone was sitting at the table.

            They were all now staring at him.

            “Morning,” he said as casually as possible and moved to grab a plate and settle to get something to eat.

            “Morning,” Treville said and watched him carefully as he dished food onto his plate. He settled into his normal seat beside d’Artagnan and made himself relax.

            “Can I be excused?” d’Artagnan choked out and Athos turned to look at him. His hands were clenched tightly in his lap and he wouldn’t look up.

            “Go ahead,” Treville said and d’Artagnan scrambled away from the table and over to where he could put his plate in the sink. He darted quickly upstairs and they all heard a door close. “That went well,” Treville muttered and shook his head.

            “Whose fault is that,” Porthos said and looked at Athos pointedly.

            Athos wanted to protest but they were right, this was his fault. He ducked his head and shoveled some eggs into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to talk.

            “So,” Treville said to break the silence, “how was your meeting?”

            “You told him?!” Athos scowled at Porthos. Though they all knew about his past drinking problem, he still felt awkward about when he had to go to meetings.

            “He asked!” Porthos shot back and Aramis curled into himself at their raised voices.

            “Boys!” Treville snapped and settled a comforting hand over Aramis’s before he lowered his voice. “How did it go, Olivier?”

            Athos stomped down the urge to shiver and took a breath. “It went well. I even called and talked to Thomas afterwards.”

            Porthos and Aramis both looked at him in surprise.

            It wasn’t that Athos didn’t have a good relationship with Thomas; it was just that they both felt awkward about initiating contact with the other.

            “That’s good.” Treville smiled encouragingly. “How is he?”

            “Good. Still sober,” Athos said and took another bite so that he could get what he wanted to say together. “I told him about last night, how I felt and what happened. Talking to Sylvie and Thomas helped.”

            “And?”

            “And I’m going to try and fix it, if I can.”

            Everyone seemed to slump in relief.

            Athos quickly finished his breakfast and cleaned up. He was on the bottom stair when Treville stopped him. “Where are you going?”

            “To fix this,” Athos said and Treville gave him an encouraging nod. Athos headed upstairs and he headed into his room first. He grabbed his épée and then moved to knock on Aramis and d’Artagnan’s door.

            “Who is it?”

            “Athos,” Athos said and leaned against the wall by the door.

            “What do you want?”

            “I’m headed out into the yard for fencing practice, wanna come with me?” Athos asked and waited as there was some shuffling on the other side of the door. The door cracked open and Athos leaned forward to look at d’Artagnan. He gave the other a small smile.

            He opened the door the rest of the way and just gestured for Athos to lead the way. Athos would take it even if d’Artagnan wouldn’t speak to him. He headed downstairs and they only paused to pull their shoes on.

            Once they were out in the yard and Athos was stretching, he felt a little more comfortable.

            “How was last night?” Athos cringed at the lack of tact and was thankful that he was bent over and d’Artagnan wouldn’t be able to see his face.

            “Fine,” d’Artagnan said and started stretching as well.

            “Just fine?” Athos asked and once d’Artagnan was stretched out he handed the boy the épée. He moved to help d’Artagnan perfect his stance before he backed away.

            “I didn’t sleep with her,” d’Artagnan grit out through his teeth. Athos blinked and a crease appeared between his brows.

            “Why not?”

            “Because!” d’Artagnan said and he dropped his stance. “Because of what you said, Athos! I couldn’t go through with it knowing that I would lose you, lose Aramis, lose Porthos!” d’Artagnan shook his head and stared at the ground. “Besides, it felt wrong.”

            There was a long moment of stunned silence.

            “You didn’t-?”

            “No!” d’Artagnan looked up at him again.

            “Oh,” Athos said quietly and then he moved to adjust d’Artagnan back into his stance. He thought about it for a long moment and he was holding d’Artagnan’s elbow, the boy’s back pressed to his chest, before he spoke. “Were you drunk last night?”

            d’Artagnan tensed against Athos. “A little.”

            Athos nodded and moved away from d’Artagnan. “Run through some of the parries I taught you last time." Athos focused on d’Artagnan’s form instead of what they’d been talking about. “Good,” Athos praised. “Again.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and with more confidence he ran through the parries again.

            “Athos,” d’Artagnan started and took a breath, pushing his damp hair from his eyes.

            “d’Artagnan.”

            “What now?” Athos could tell he wasn’t talking about fencing.

            “I don’t know,” Athos said honestly. They stared at each other for a long moment. “But I think you might be ready to start actually fencing soon.”

            d’Artagnan smiled. “I’d like that. Can we start today?”

            Athos barked out a laugh and pushed his hair from his eyes. “You think you’re ready?”

            “If you do.”

            “Let me go get Aramis’s épée.”

.....

            Athos was laughing as he leaned back so that he was out of d’Artagnan’s range. His laugh quickly died as d’Artagnan made a pained noise and dropped his épée. Athos was immediately straightening up and moving over to where d’Artagnan was cradling his arm close to his chest.

            “d’Artagnan, what is it?” Athos asked and tossed Aramis’s épée onto the ground so he could steady d’Artagnan with a hand on his back and one on his shoulder.

            “My shoulder,” d’Artagnan frowned and tried to uncurl his arm but he quickly pulled it back close to his chest with a grimace.

            “You’ve probably strained it,” Athos said and grabbed up both épées. “Let’s get you inside and get some ice on it.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and let Athos guide him inside. He sat at the kitchen table as Athos settled the épées on the table and moved to get the cold pack.

            “How many times do I have to say this: no weapons on the table,” Treville frowned as he stepped into the kitchen.

            “d’Artagnan’s hurt his shoulder,” Athos said as he returned with the cold pack and moved to press it firmly to d’Artagnan’s injured shoulder.

            “ _Merde_!” d’Artagnan swore and flinched.

            “Language!” Treville admonished. Athos raised an eyebrow and Treville scowled at him. “I’ll get him the brace.”

            “What?” d’Artagnan gaped at them.

            “It’s fine, it’s just for a day or two until the swelling goes down,” Athos let his thumb swipe over the cold pack. “It can be worn under your clothes.”

            d’Artagnan’s ears were red and he slumped in his seat. “This is so embarrassing,” he muttered.

            “It’s a common injury. We all have hurt our shoulders pretty badly.” Athos settled the cold pack securely before he moved to lean against the table.

            d’Artagnan nodded and that’s when, thankfully, Treville stepped back in with the shoulder brace. Athos took it and gently laid d’Artagnan’s arm out so he could strap the brace on. d’Artagnan flinched slightly but after he was strapped up he looked like his pain had eased considerably. “Thank you,” d’Artagnan said and took the cold pack over to the freezer.

            “Any time,” Athos said. “Just be careful with it.” d’Artagnan nodded.

            “I’m gonna head upstairs,” d’Artagnan said around a yawn. “I’m exhausted.”

            Athos just watched him go and he felt a smile tugging at his lips. “You two worked it out then?” Treville asked.

            “Yeah, we did.”

            “Did you tell him about the drinking?” Treville asked and Athos’s stomach felt heavy.

            “No. Not yet.”

            “You should tell him.”

            “I will, just not tonight.” Athos brushed hand over his hair. He grabbed the épées and headed up the stairs. He put them away where they belonged and moved into his room and flopped down on his bed. He’d only been lying down for a moment when Porthos knocked on his door.

            “Can I come in?” Porthos asked and Athos nodded. “How’d it go?”

            “Everything’s better. Not back to normal but I think we’ll be alright,” Athos said and moved over on the bed so Porthos could sprawl next to him.

            “That’s good,” Porthos said and brushed a kiss to Athos’s cheek. “So.”

            “So.”

            “You two gonna fuck?”

            “Porthos!” Athos shoved at his shoulder and shook his head.

            “It’s a valid question, as your partner I believe that I deserve to know.” Porthos grinned teasingly and Athos huffed at him.

            “No. Not anytime soon anyway,” Athos said and stretched his arms over his head.

            “But you’re totally holding onto later,” Porthos grinned and Athos felt his cheeks flushing.

            “Shut up.”

            “Why’s Porthos shutting up?” Aramis asked from the doorway and Athos groaned as he shifted over even more to accommodate Aramis as he curled into them.

            “Because Athos is hot under the collar for d’Artagnan.”

            “We knew that already.”

            “But now he might have a chance.”

            “Look at him, Porthos,” Aramis said and gestured to Athos. “He always had a shot.”

            “I’m right here,” Athos grumbled.

            “And you’re lovely,” Aramis said before placing a smacking kiss to Athos’s mouth. Athos shook his head but he was smiling.

            “You two really don’t mind,” Athos asked quietly. The tone was suddenly more serious because Athos didn’t want to hurt them.

            “If he makes you happy, Athos, that’s all we want.” Aramis gave him a reassuring smile.

            “If you care about him, and he cares about you,” Porthos said. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind him joining us, we just might need to find a bigger bed.”

            They all burst into hysterical laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we now know a little bit of Athos's backstory, and we've resolved the majority of the tension between Athos and d'Artagnan. Hope y'all liked it, comment and tell me what you thought!  
> -James


	6. Flashback Part One: Porthos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porthos's story of how he came to Treville

            Porthos glanced around furtively.

            He wasn’t supposed to be here. He knew that but he also knew that Charon and Flea were only going to get worse if he didn’t get them something to eat.

            He walked along in the store casually and moved around the produce section to see if he could find some oranges. That’s what his maman would give him when he didn’t feel good. And Charon didn’t look good at all… so oranges.

            Porthos let his eyes roam over the oranges on the display. They looked good enough to him. He grabbed one and, subtly, looked around to see that no one was watching. No one was around so Porthos tucked the orange into his oversized jacket’s inside pocket. He grabbed two more and shoved them quickly into the pocket.

            He needed something for Charon to drink.

            He drifted into the aisle with juice and made his way down to the Gatorade. That’d been another thing Maman had given him when he was sick. He looked around and waited until the last woman drifted out of the aisle. He grabbed a red one because red was Charon’s favorite color. He was about to slide it into the pocket of his cargo shorts when he heard a shout. He jumped and stared, wide eyed, at the cashier that had caught him.

            He immediately went into action. He shoved the Gatorade in his pocket and took off running. He sprinted through the store and then shot out the doors and into the street. It took him a moment to gather his bearings before he was streaking off again, the angry sounds of voices shouting following him out through the streets. He managed to shake them for a bit, the shouting having died down, as he clambered up the rickety fire escape of the abandoned apartment building that he, Flea, and Charon kipped down in. He was panting and his skin felt too tight from all the fear of getting caught. He hardly noticed Flea staring at him with her big blue eyes.

            “Porthos?” She asked and moved from Charon’s side to cling to Porthos’s jacket.

            “I’m okay,” he grinned and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just needed to get some stuff.” He pulled the oranges, now a little bruised, out of his pocket triumphantly.

            “Porthos you’re the best!” Flea grinned and took hers and Charon’s back over to the blanket nest where Charon was sleeping. “Charon, look!” She shook him awake and Charon looked at them blearily, his eyes glazed over from his fever.

            “Oranges,” he mumbled and Porthos, being the biggest and a lot stronger than Flea, moved to help prop Charon up so he could eat and drink.

            “And Gatorade,” Porthos said and pulled the bottle out of his pocket. “To make you better.” Porthos twisted the cap off and held it to Charon’s lips so he could drink.

            “You musta got into an awful lot of trouble,” Flea said and looked him up and down. He was still a little shaky from his run.

            “I didn’t get caught,” Porthos said and set the bottle down. Flea frowned around her mouthful of orange but didn’t say anything. “’sides, had to get something for you two so you wouldn’t get sicker.”

            Flea nodded solemnly. Porthos could tell she was upset with herself for getting sick, which had gotten Charon sick too. Charon… he just got sicker than Flea had.

            Porthos peeled Charon’s orange for him and helped feed him, making sure he chewed enough that he wouldn’t choke.

            It was a slow process and by the time Porthos was able to get to his own orange, Flea had already finished hers and was starting to doze off. He laid Charon back and covered the both of them with a ratty blanket. It was all they had.

            Porthos was chewing on his orange thoughtfully when he heard it.

            There were boots on the stairs.

            Porthos immediately was up and shielding Charon and Flea as he watched the door. This wasn’t the first time this had happened and Porthos doubted that it would be the last. The steps became louder and louder until the door was pushed open and Porthos tensed for a fight.

            The door opened quietly and a man poked his head in. Porthos stared at him and he stared at Porthos. He slowly entered and held his hands up where Porthos could see them. Porthos immediately took a step back when his eyes caught on the shiny badge and gun strapped to his hip.

            “I’m not here to hurt you,” the officer said and he crouched down, keeping his hands up so Porthos could see them. “I got a call saying that a grocer had a shoplifter. I’m guessing that was you?”

            Porthos stayed silent and sidestepped to try and shield Flea and Charon from the officer’s view.

            “My name is Officer Jean Treville,” the man said and nodded toward the orange rinds and half empty bottle of Gatorade. “I assume you took those because you were hungry?”

            “Porthos?” Porthos wanted to throw a fit when he heard Flea’s sleepy voice and he glanced over his shoulder to see her sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

            “Ah,” the officer said and Flea’s eyes, now suddenly awake, snapped over to him. “I see now.”

            “Do you?” Porthos snapped angrily.

            “I think so,” Officer Treville said with a small smile. “You were protecting them. That’s admirable.” Porthos blinked in surprised. Whenever an officer had caught him stealing they didn’t call it ‘admirable’. “How about I make you two a deal?”

            “Three,” Flea corrected and clung onto Charon’s shirt.

            “Alright then, three,” Officer Treville said. “I take you three to the station to find somewhere for you to stay and get you something to eat. All you have to do is tell me your names. How’s that sound?”

            Porthos eyed him for a moment and hesitated. “I’m not going to jail?”

            Officer Treville shook his head. “No, you’re not going to jail.”

            Porthos looked at Flea and Charon and he felt something ugly twist up in his chest. He didn’t want them to get in trouble too if the officer was lying, but he knew this wasn’t a good life for them either. They had to steal to eat, they didn’t go to school, their clothes were too big, they were always dirty, and Charon was so sick. Tears burned at his eyes as he looked back to the now-blurry officer.

            “It’s alright,” the man soothed and shuffled a little closer. “I promise.”

            “Okay,” Porthos choked out through his tears. “We’ll go with you.” Flea made a distressed noise behind him but he just shook his head and she quieted down. He grabbed the Gatorade and shoved it into his jacket pocket before he took Flea’s hand and pulled her to her feet. The officer just watched quietly as Porthos did this. Porthos turned and he glanced the officer up and down. “Charon is sick… I can’t carry him by myself.”

            “Good thing I’m here,” Officer Treville said and stood. He walked over and knelt down next to Charon. “Is it alright if I carry him?” Porthos eyed him for a moment and then nodded. “Alright.” Officer Treville lifted Charon so gently that Porthos felt some of the tension relax from his shoulders. “Follow me.” They were walking down the rickety stairs of the building. At the bottom of the stairs was another officer and Porthos froze, Flea’s hand suddenly becoming tight around his own. “It’s okay,” Officer Treville said and he watched them with soft eyes. “That’s my partner, he’s here to help too.”

            “Hey guys,” the younger officer smiled and held up his hands the way Officer Treville had earlier. “My name is Officer de Foix.”

            Porthos glanced between them suspiciously and then he took a breath. He gently tugged on Flea’s hand and they started walking again.

            “You still haven’t told me your names,” Treville said as they walked out into the street.

            “That’s Charon,” Porthos said as he watched Treville tuck Charon gently into the back of the car. “This is Flea,” Porthos nodded to her and she stuck herself close to his side.

            “And you?” Treville asked and leaned against the side of the car.

            “I’m Porthos, Porthos du Vallon.” He stuck his chin out proudly. He was the only one of them that knew his last name.

            “Well, Porthos du Vallon, Flea, if you’ll just get into the car we’ll head down to the station.” Officer Treville was grinning at them. They nodded to each other before heading over and sliding into the seat next to Charon.

…..

            “They’re from the machine on the corner, so I apologize if they’re not very good,” Treville said and settled the plastic containers with the sandwiches in front of the two children.

            “What about Charon?” Porthos asked as he cautiously opened his sandwich.

            “We’re going to have a friend of mine come in and look at him, she’s a nurse.” Treville leaned his elbow against the desk and watched them as they quickly ate their sandwiches. Porthos swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and wiped his hands on his pants. “Why don’t you two tell me a little about yourself, let’s see if we can find out if anyone’s looking for you.”

            “No one’s looking for us,” Porthos said matter-of-factly. “Flea’s got no parents and neither does Charon.”

            “What about you?”

            Porthos’s stomach suddenly felt ill. “I… I had my maman, but she died.” Porthos shrugged and picked at his clothes.

            “And what about your father?”

            “He left me and Maman before I was born,” Porthos said and glanced up at the officer. “That’s why my name is du Vallon.”

            “Was that your mother’s name?” Porthos nodded. Treville jotted it down on his notepad and then tucked it back into his shirt pocket. “Well, I’ll be back. I need to call Kitty to come look at Charon, and then I need to make some calls around to see if there’s a place you two can stay.”

            Porthos nodded and when Flea huddled into his side he just curled his arm around her. Treville stood and he said something to Officer de Foix quietly enough that Porthos couldn’t hear it. Porthos watched the other officer go over to the computer and start typing rapidly.

            Porthos yawned widely and he leaned into Flea and let his eyes slide closed. He was exhausted from staying up all night to make sure Charon and Flea were alright. He’d just rest for a moment.

…..

            Treville pressed his phone to his ear and kept an eye on the children as they curled into each other. Porthos seemed to sag and finally get some rest. Treville felt better for it. He almost didn’t realize Kitty had answered the phone.

            “Sorry, Kitty,” Treville said and swiped a hand over his face. “Hello.”

            “Jean, what is it?” Kitty was always to the point.

            “I’ve got a couple of kids down here, homeless and very young, and one of them is quite sick. I was wondering if you could come down to the station and check them all over.”

            There was silence other than the phone static. “You are the biggest softie I’ve ever met.”

            “Are you going to help me out or not?” Treville asked.

            “Give me twenty minutes. I’ll be right there, but you owe me.”

            “Deal.” Treville laughed.

            He let the children sleep until Kitty arrived at his desk. “Hey, handsome.” She winked at him and he rolled his eyes. “Where’re the kids?” Treville walked over to where they were all slumped together on the nearby couch.

            “I’ll wake ‘em up.” Treville crouched next to them and gently shook at Porthos’s shoulder. The boy shot up and his hands came up in defense before he was even fully awake. “Porthos, it’s alright,” Treville said and he held his hands up. Porthos relaxed and he sighed heavily, his shoulder slumping. “This is Kitty, she’s the nurse that I told you about. Kitty, this is Porthos, Flea, and Charon.”

            Kitty smiled at them and tucked her short black hair behind her ears. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

            Porthos nodded though his eyes were wide and nervous.

            “I’m going to check on you three and make sure you’re all healthy, is that okay?” Kitty asked Porthos, obviously picking up on the fact that he was the protector of the small group.

            Porthos nodded. “Charon is the most sick, so I think you should look at him first.”

            Kitty nodded. “If that will make you feel better.” Kitty settled and Porthos gently shook the other two awake. Flea jerked upright and she quickly scrambled back away from the adults and towards Porthos.

            “It’s okay,” Porthos said and held onto her tightly. “She’s a nurse. She’s going to make you and Charon better.”

            “I’m going to try,” Kitty said and she shifted to watch Charon as he fought to wake up. “How long has he been like this?” She opened her bag and pulled out a stethoscope. She gently sat Charon up and, now that his eyes were open, he stared at her listlessly.

            “I don’t know,” Porthos said and clenched his hands in his lap.

            “It’s okay, Porthos,” Treville said and gently covered the boy’s hands with his own.

            The rest of the checkup went alright. Flea was obviously recovering from something, perhaps the same thing Charon couldn’t seem to shake, but Kitty still wanted to take all of them to the hospital. Treville nodded and bundled Charon up and carried him out to Kitty’s car. She’d take the children to the hospital.

            “Officer Treville,” Porthos said and he clung onto Treville’s pant leg desperately, “you’re coming too, right?” Treville felt a sense of responsibility curl up in his chest as big brown eyes stared up at him pleadingly.

            “Of course,” Treville said and settled Charon into the front seat at Kitty’s silent order. He sat with Porthos and Flea in the back seat.

.....

            Treville was relieved to find out that Porthos was completely healthy other than some vitamin deficiencies that were to be expected. Flea had just shaken the flu.

            Charon was another story.

            “He’s got an upper respiratory infection, Jean,” Kitty said as she crossed her arms. Treville bit his lip and waited for her to continue. She just turned to look at the little boy in the hospital bed hooked up to more monitors than Treville thought one little body could handle.

            “But he’s going to be alright, right?”

            “I… I don’t know. It depends whether or not he catches pneumonia.” Kitty bit her lip and she bumped Treville’s shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can.”

            Treville nodded and he jumped as his phone vibrated against his thigh. “Excuse me,” he said and stepped away to pull out his phone. He felt relieved when he read the name lighting up his screen: _Ninon_.

            “Ninon, thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” Treville felt some of the tension leave him.

            “Of course, Treville. You said you had a girl that might need a place to stay?”

            “Yes,” Treville said and bit his lip. “I was wondering if you had room. She’s small, still very young, but she’s very skittish.”

            “I have plenty of room right now,” Ninon said.

            “Can I bring her by in about,” Treville checked his watch, “an hour?”

            “Of course.”

            “You’re an angel, Ninon. Thank you.”

            “It’s my job, Treville. See you in an hour.” Treville could hear the smile in her voice and he relaxed as they hung up. Now he just needed to find somewhere for Porthos to stay, but all the boys’ homes he’d tried were full. He tapped his fingers against the edge of his phone case as he thought.

            He made up his mind and stepped into the room. “Flea, Porthos, it’s time to say goodbye to Charon.” They both looked stricken at the thought. “Just for tonight. Kitty and the doctors will take care of him. Right now, it’s time to get you two to places where you can stay the night.”

            “We’re not going to be together?” Flea asked and she looked pale.

            “I’m afraid not.” Treville bit his lip. “Flea, I got you a spot in a girls’ home run by a very good friend of mine, Mademoiselle Ninon.” Porthos frowned and Treville continued. “I only live a short distance away, and I have a spare room or two, so I thought, if it’s alright with Porthos, that he could stay with me. You’ll be as close to each other as I can manage.”

            They both still seemed stricken but Porthos nodded resolutely. “Okay,” he said bravely and moved to pat Charon’s shoulder. “We’ll see you later, Charon. I promise.” Porthos waited for Flea to press a quick kiss to Charon’s cheek before she darted away, pressing close to Porthos as he walked over to Treville. “We’re ready.”

            Treville admired how brave these young children were. He ushered them out with a final wave to Kitty.

…..

            “You have a puppy!” Porthos’s eyes lit up as he stared at Enjolras.

            Enjolras scrambled up and over to the boy with his tail wagging so hard it was a blur. Treville laughed as Porthos and Enjolras collided and they rolled around on the floor together. “Porthos, this is Enjolras, Enjolras this is Porthos,” Treville introduced with a laugh. The beagle puppy yipped happily from where he was laying on the floor with Porthos scratching his ears.

            “He’s great,” Porthos said and Enjolras licked his face as if agreement that he thought Porthos was great too.

            “He’s… something,” Treville muttered and held out a hand for Porthos. “I think we’re gonna get you cleaned up, settled and then you can play with Enjolras in the yard if you like.”

            Porthos nodded and pulled himself up with Treville’s offered hand. Treville headed toward the stairs and guided Porthos along. “Here’s the bathroom,” Treville said and he gestured Porthos inside. Porthos nodded and he looked around awkwardly. “Need any help?” Treville asked as gently as possible.

            “No,” Porthos said and moved to turn on the shower. “I’m okay.”

            “I’ll be in the other room if you need me,” Treville said and moved to make up a room for Porthos.

…..

            It’d been three months since Treville had taken Porthos in.

            Treville hadn’t realized how busy his life could be. He thought being a cop was hectic, but having a child was a whole other level of running about.

            Porthos had to be enrolled into school and it’d taken some time with extra tutors to get him caught up with the other children. But Porthos was a smart boy and he’d caught on so very quickly.

            It was a Monday morning and Treville knew it was going to be a bad day when he spilled his coffee in his lap on the drive to Porthos’s school, on Parent’s Day. He let out a litany of curses and then flushed in embarrassment as he noticed Porthos staring at him wide-eyed from the back seat.

            “Don’t ever repeat any of those words, young man!” Treville said sternly. Porthos nodded and ducked his head. Treville continued to swear a blue streak in his head as he pulled up to the school, wiping at the coffee mess on his trousers.

            He parked the car and leaned over to rifle around in his duffle bag for a change of uniform pants. He thanked anyone who was listening that he had an extra set. “I’m gonna go in by myself,” Porthos said and went to reach for the door handle. One look from Treville killed that idea. Treville, flushing with embarrassment even more, undid his belt and as discreetly as possible, changed into his fresh set of trousers. He redid his belt and then slid out of the car.

            “Come on, Porthos,” Treville said and Porthos slid out of the car with his backpack in hand. He took Treville’s hand and they walked together into school. Treville smiled at the familiar faces of the teachers and when Porthos went to hang up his backpack he smiled at Mademoiselle Fleur, Porthos’s teacher.

            “Officer Treville, I’m so glad you could come!” She clapped and her smile was genuine and it made Treville smile back. “The children have been so excited to meet Porthos’s foster father! He talks about you constantly.”

            Treville nodded sheepishly. “I’m sure his tales are much grander than the reality,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck.

            “We’ll just have to see,” she said and waved Treville over to sit with the other parents. Treville nodded and made small talk until the children came over to sit with them. Treville could instantly read the hastily concealed looks that a selective group of the other parents were giving him and Porthos. Porthos didn’t seem to notice and that soothed Treville minutely.

            “Who wants to talk about their parent first?” Mademoiselle Fleur asked. Every hand shot up in the air at once and Porthos grinned brightly as he stood on his toes in his excitement. The woman’s eyes lit up and Treville suddenly wanted the floor to swallow him up. “Porthos, what about you?”

            Porthos grinned at him before he folded his hands behind his back seriously. “This is my foster father, Officer Treville,” Porthos began and Treville hated how clinical it sounded. It was what Porthos had always called him, but now it almost seemed _wrong._ “He’s a police officer, and that’s how he met me!” Porthos rocked on his feet in his excitement. “He helped me after my Maman died, when I didn’t have a house to live in. I lived all alone, well not really.” Porthos hummed. “I lived with Flea and Charon, they’re kids like me without parents.” Treville bit his lip and he felt uneasy at the looks the other parents were giving each other. “So Officer Treville took us to the doctor, which is where Charon still is, then took Flea to a girls’ home and me home with him!”

            Mademoiselle Fleur’s eyes were wet and she swiped at her cheeks. “That’s a very sweet story, Porthos. I’m very glad that you and Officer Treville met.” She clapped and the other children clapped excitedly along, but the parents only clapped in a crisp, polite way. It made anger burn hot in his veins. His seething was interrupted by his phone going off.

            “Excuse me,” Treville apologized to the room and set a hand on Porthos’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, promise.” Porthos nodded and Treville stepped out to take the call. It was Kitty. “What is it Kitty, I’m at Porthos’s school.”

            “It’s Charon, Jean.” Treville’s breath caught in his chest.

            “No…” He breathed out and Kitty let out a steadying breath.

            Static rippled through the line before Kitty spoke again. It was a short sentence but it crushed Treville under the weight of it. Porthos was going to be devastated. “If you want to bring him by, it should be alright.”

            “No, I-well I don’t know.” Treville scrubbed at his face. “I’ve got to tell him first, then I’ll call you back.”

            “Now?” Kitty asked incredulously.

            “It has to be now.” Treville sighed. “I’ll call you in a minute.”

            “Give him a hug from me,” Kitty said and Treville nodded.

            “Will do.” He hung up and slowly tucked the phone into his pocket. He moved just inside the room and he was grateful that the room was quiet except for the kids’ attempts at stifling their eagerness to be next. “Might I borrow Porthos for a moment, mademoiselle?”

            The teacher gave him a concerned look and then looked at Porthos, who was staring at Treville confused. “Of course. Porthos you are excused to the hall.”

            Porthos nodded and walked out into the hall. Treville hated that the door had a window next to it. He could see the other children trying to peek at them. He crouched with his back to the window, shielding Porthos from view.

            “What is it?” Porthos asked, his hands knotted up in his shirt.

            “Porthos,” Treville started and gently took his hands. “You know that Charon was very sick.” Treville kept a careful eye on Porthos as he nodded even though it wasn’t a question. “You also know that sometimes when people get sick they don’t get better. Charon… Charon got pneumonia, Porthos. His body just couldn’t fight anymore, and he’s gone.”

            It took a moment for it to sink it, but when it did Porthos lunged forward to cling to Treville’s chest. Treville could hear the boy’s quiet sobs and he just held Porthos tightly.

            “I’m so sorry, Porthos,” Treville said and rubbed his back as the boy cried.

            “But-but,” Porthos pulled back and sniffed. “I thought Kitty said he was getting better!”

            “She thought he was,” Treville said. “Sometimes that happens. People seem better and then they get much worse. Charon had been sick for so long and he’d been fighting so hard. He was just tired.” Porthos’s face crumpled and a fresh wave of tears poured down his face as he clung to Treville for comfort again. Treville just rocked him gently and held onto him. He felt his heart twisting up for Porthos. The boy had had nothing but his two friends for Treville didn’t even know how long, and he’d just lost one of them.

            “I… I wanna go home,” Porthos said and wiped his eyes, trying to put on a brave face.

            “Okay, Porthos. We’ll go home. You just wait here, I need to tell your teacher.”

            “No! Don’t leave me!” Porthos clung onto him tighter and Treville shushed him gently.

            “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere,” Treville promised. He picked Porthos up and opened the door just a crack. Porthos’s teacher could immediately tell something was wrong. She sent the children to do a quick craft activity with their parents before rushing over. “I’m going to be taking Porthos home, I’m sorry. I know we’ve only just got here-”

            “Don’t apologize, it’s perfectly fine.” She smiled at Porthos and gently touched his shoulder. He turned his head to look at her pitifully. “I hope you feel better soon, Porthos. Your classmates and I will miss you very much.”

            “Thank you,” Porthos managed to choke out before he buried his face in Treville’s neck again.

            “I hope everything’s okay,” Mademoiselle Fleur said even though Treville knew she could tell that it was not. “If you need anything, you know where I am.”

            “Thank you,” Treville said and then walked out, carrying Porthos to the car.

…..

            Treville couldn’t believe that Porthos was fourteen years old now. It’d been nine years since Treville had found him, Charon, and Flea in that broken down building.

            It’d also been five years since Treville had officially become Porthos’s adoptive father. Treville watched with pride from the sidelines as Porthos sprinted down the football pitch. He shouted encouragements that had Porthos grinning. Porthos sent a well-aimed kick and the ball flew through the goalie’s hands. Treville heard the whistle and that meant the game was over.

            Porthos sprinted over and whooped excitedly as he scratched Enjolras’s ears. “Did you see that? Did you, Papa?” Porthos looked up at him and Treville nodded.

            “I did, it was amazing, Porthos! I’m proud of you.”

            Porthos flushed and he ran a hand through his hair. “I know you’ve got some stuff to do, and you have Enjolras, but is it okay if I go with the team to get ice cream? Louis’s uncle is going to drive.” Treville narrowed his eyes at Armand where he was placating Louis, one of Treville’s former foster kids, but then looked back to Porthos.

            “Alright,” Treville sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “But you behave yourself, young man!” Treville pointed at Porthos seriously. The boy had a habit for mischief and it’d gotten Treville into trouble more than once.

            “I will, Papa! Promise!” He hugged Treville tightly, already the two of them were nearly the same height, and then took off.

            Enjolras whined and Treville nodded. “I know, he’s grown up so fast.” Enjolras looked up at Treville with a look and Treville just laughed at the aging beagle. “Oh, I see. You just wanted ice cream. I see what game you’re playing, old man.” Treville lifted the dog and started the walk to the car. He’d settled the dog in the front seat when his phone rang. He frowned slightly to see de Foix’s name crawling across the screen. “Treville.”

            “Hey, Jean. I hate to bother you because I know Porthos’s game was tonight-”

            “It’s over and he’s going out with friends, what is it?”

            “I’ve got another kid that you might want to take in.” After adopting Porthos, Treville had soon retired and signed up to be a foster parent. He’s seen a few kids come and go, mostly troubled kids who needed a stern hand to guide them, but they were usually older and soon aged out of the system.

            “Meet you at the station in fifteen minutes.”

            “Sounds great.” Treville hung up and took a breath. His work was never done. He smiled as he started the car and then headed down to the station to meet his newest charge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright a couple of things: I researched how French primary schools worked and I have to say that it was a little hard to get consistent and solid info, so the system is based on France, but some details might be influenced by my American education so forgive me if it's terribly inaccurate.  
> I'm excited to post the boys' backstories, especially since you all seemed so interested in them, so forgive me for the break in the continuity of the story (I did warn you it wouldn't be completely linear)!  
> Comment and tell me what you thought!  
> -James


	7. Flashback Part Two: Aramis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis's past and how he came to be in Treville's care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR A MENTION OF AN UNDERAGE (AND QUITE YOUNG) ARAMIS HAVING SEX WITH ADULTS!!!

            Aramis slumped into himself to try and make himself look smaller. He was tired and aching, and he certainly hadn’t thought he’d end his night in a police station.

            It’d all started with his father coming home.

            He’d been angry, and probably drunk, because Mami hadn’t met up with a client because Isabelle was sick.

            “ _¡Maldición, Luciana! ¡No puedo creer que lo jodiste por nosotros! ¿No puedes hacer nada bien? ¿Quieres que nuestras hijas mueran de hambre? ¡Porque lo harán si no sacas como debes!_ ”

            His mother had, of course, shrunk back and tried to explain. But that never worked with Aramis’s father. He’d shouted so loudly that Aramis felt like it was rattling his teeth. He’d tried to discreetly usher the girls to bed, he didn’t want them to see what would inevitably happen next.

           Then his father had caught sight of him. He froze and quickly shoved the girls into the bedroom and shut the door. He’d just gotten his hair cut short today. It made him feel better in his skin, like his body wasn’t trying to betray him. Mami had liked it, she thought it made him look handsome.

            It made Aramis flinch to hear what his father said next.

           “ _Nuestra chica parece un niño! ¡No conseguirá clientes de esa manera! ¿Quién quiere coger a un niño pequeño?”_

           Aramis tried not to flinch as his father ranted while staring him down.

           “Casimir, please,” Mami said. “Keep your voice down… the neighbors.”

           “Fuck the neighbors! If I want to shout in my own home, at my wife, I can!”

            “Enough, Casimir! You’re scaring the children!” Mami’s face went white as she realized what she’d just done. Casimir was quiet and his hands clenched at his sides. Aramis tried to make himself smaller.

             The slap was so rough and so quick that Aramis almost didn’t realize it’d happened. He felt tears pricking at his eyes and he swiped at them quickly so his father wouldn’t see.

             “You!” Aramis’s father snapped. “Come here!”

             “Yes, Papi,” Aramis said quietly and walked over meekly.

             “Since your _mother_ ,” Casimir spit angrily and glared at Aramis’s mother, “doesn’t want to provide for this family… that means it’s your turn.”

              Aramis wasn’t surprised. This wasn’t the first time this had happened.

              “Casimir- _por favor_ , _mi amor_!” Mami begged and took his hand. “Don’t do this!”

              “It’s okay, Mami,” Aramis said and gave her a weak smile. “Take care of Isabelle. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He grabbed his jacket and slipped into it.

              Casimir grinned in a way that made Aramis sick to his stomach. “I’m proud of you, _mi dulce niña_.” Aramis just nodded mechanically.

              Aramis knew the routine well by now. He’d watch as someone paid his father, he’d let the client kiss him, touch him, peel his clothes off. It was almost like he was watching it happen to someone else. After a few hours, he heard his father’s footsteps and snapped back to grounded reality.

              “Let’s go home,” Casimir said and Aramis nodded, pulled all his clothes back on, and wrapped himself up in his jacket. Aramis let himself be guided home on shaky legs. He went quietly to the couch and eased himself down. His legs ached and his throat felt raw.

              “Come here,” Aramis’s mother said and cradled him against her. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Aramis just shook his head and pressed closer to his mother. “Don’t you worry, _mijo_. We’re getting out of here.”

            “Mami, wha-?” Aramis asked, his throat scratchy and protesting. He couldn’t even finish before the red and blue lights were nearly blinding through the windows.

            After that it was a blur of being taken to the hospital to be tested and cleaned up. He was still shaky but he felt better, especially since his mother and sisters were with him. His mother was ushered away by an officer to give a statement and another officer settled into the chair next to Aramis’s bed.

            “Can we talk about what happened?” The officer asked quietly. Aramis nodded and smiled faintly.

            “My father is an abusive, drug dealing pimp,” Aramis said simply and he hated how rough his voice was coming out, but he couldn’t help it.

            “I can see that,” the officer said with a wry, humorless grin. “Is this the first time this has happened?” Aramis shook his head. “Has he ever hurt any of your sisters? Has he tried to make them… sell themselves?”

            Aramis shook his head again. “He never laid a hand on my sisters or I, just my mother. And no, I go because the girls are younger than me.”

            The officer nodded and he jotted it all down. “I’ll be back shortly with your mother.” The girls all climbed into bed with him and Aramis could breathe easier knowing that they were safe.

            His mother came in, tears glittering in her eyes, with the officers flanking her. Aramis frowned. “What is it, Mami?”

            “You… you all are going to go away for a bit, _mijo_.” Aramis felt panic spike hard in his chest.

            “No!” The girls all shouted in protest and then they were crying and all talking over each other.

            “Enough,” she said softly and they all fell silent. “Now listen to me.” She settled on the edge of Aramis’s bed. “Girls,” she said addressing the little ones, “you are going to a home with lots of other girls just like you. I promise that you will be taken care of.” She took Aramis’s hand. “You, René, will go to a former officer’s home. He has another boy living with him. You will be taken care of as well.”

            “Where will you go?” Aramis asked softly and squeezed her hand.

            “I will stay at home.” She held her head up as she said it.

            “But what about Papi?” Aramis asked seriously. He didn’t want to leave his mother alone with his father.

            “He’s going to prison,” the officer said. Aramis nodded slowly and he took a shaky breath.

            “Okay, Mami.” He smiled weakly. She leaned in to press kisses along his face.

            “I love you, _mijo_.” She pulled all the girls in for a tight hug that set Isabelle and Olivia to crying. “I love all of you so much.” She kissed them all one last time. “Now you be good for these officers.”

            And that’s how Aramis had ended up sitting, curled into himself, in the police station. His sisters had already been taken to their new home, but Aramis had to wait. He was picking at his shirt when he heard the officer from before come in. “Jean, this is René d’Herblay, René, this is Jean Treville, your foster father.” Aramis looked up and shrunk back from the man in front of him.

            Treville smiled at him and kept his distance. “I’ve heard a great deal about you and your sisters, René.”

            “Aramis,” Aramis said softly. “I prefer Aramis.”

            “I think I’ll stick with René since it’s the name you picked out for yourself in the first place,” Treville said and when Aramis flicked his eyes up to the man’s, they were soft. Treville’s eyes were nothing like his father’s.

            “Okay,” Aramis said and ducked his head again.

            “Come on, we’ll get you settled in at the house. I hope you don’t mind that I have a dog,” Treville said. Aramis perked up a little at that. He’d always wanted a dog but his father had never allowed it. “I have to warn you, he’s getting older but he’s still a good companion. He’s actually in the car now.” Aramis felt a small smile tug at his lips. “Come on.”

            Aramis stood and walked slowly a bit behind Treville. He slid into the back seat and his smile grew as the dog clambered into his lap. Aramis let his hands smooth over the dog’s fur, and it helped to settle his nerves a little.

            It wasn’t a long drive to Treville’s house and when Aramis opened the door, the dog hopped out first. Treville rolled his eyes at the dog before grabbing him up. “Menace,” he muttered under his breath and then looked to Aramis. “Come on. Porthos, my son, isn’t here, but he’ll be back soon.”

            Aramis was tense as he walked into the house. Treville flicked the lights on and set the dog down. “There’s two rooms upstairs that are empty, pick either one you want and it’s yours. I’ll be upstairs in a minute to get you clean sheets. I just need to feed Enjolras.” Aramis couldn’t contain the snort. Treville smiled and shrugged. “I’m a fan of Hugo, what can I say?”

            Aramis nodded and just drifted up the stairs. He felt worn out and tired. He picked the room on the right and stepped inside. It was airy and had a large window next to the bed. It made Aramis feel less like he was trapped.

            “A nice choice,” Treville said and Aramis nearly jumped out of his skin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

            “It’s okay,” Aramis said breathlessly.

            “Here,” Treville said and held out the sheets for Aramis to take.

            “Thank you.” Aramis took them tentatively.

            “I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you need me.” Treville nodded and left. Aramis let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He made the bed and immediately fell into it and tried to sleep. He was achy and tired but he missed his sisters. He rubbed at his eyes to try and keep from bursting into tears.

            It was a long time before he could fall asleep.

…..

            It was nine months before anyone brought up the elephant in the room.

            Aramis and Porthos had become close fairly quickly after Aramis’s initial fear at Porthos’s considerable size difference. Aramis was lying in bed, idly doodling in his notebook when he heard a knock. “Come in,” he called absently.

            “It’s me,” Porthos said and Aramis grinned and rolled over to grin at Porthos. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

            “Go ahead,” Aramis said as Porthos moved to stretch out beside him.

            “I know you’re trans, but you don’t have any binders and stuff. I have a friend who wants to get rid of some. You want ‘em?”

            Aramis blinked owlishly. “You’d do that?”

            Porthos grinned brightly. “Of course I would. Ninon’s had a couple of queer kids come through her home. She keeps their old stuff they outgrow or don’t want anymore. I can call her.”

            “Please?” Aramis asked and his voice cracked, tears welling up in his eyes.

            “Come on, we’ll pop in and see her.” Porthos took Aramis’s hand and Aramis immediately recoiled. “Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot, I didn’t mean-”

            “It’s okay,” Aramis said and smiled. It was just because he wasn’t expecting it. He slowly slid his hand into Porthos’s. “Let’s go.”

            Porthos’s ears turned red and he ducked his head as they went out.

            “We’re going to Ninon’s to pick up some stuff,” Porthos said just above a normal voice, refraining from shouting for Aramis’s benefit.

            “Be back for dinner,” Treville called back. Aramis smiled as he and Porthos walked the fairly short way to Ninon’s. She was sitting in the yard surrounded by a bunch of tables filled with stuff.

            “Porthos!” She called with a fond smile.

            “Ninon,” he said and kissed both her cheeks.

            “This must be René,” Ninon said with a smile. “Your sisters have told me so much about you, and if they hadn’t Porthos would surely make up for it.” Porthos turned red and Aramis felt a blush crawling onto his own cheeks.

            “I told Aramis that you had some binders that needed new homes. He doesn’t have one,” Porthos said to divert the attention away from himself.

            “Wonderful.” Ninon lead them over to a table with binders in all different colors, sizes, and styles laid out on it. “Pick whatever you want. I can help you if you have any questions.” Aramis nodded.

            “What style do you think-?” He bit his lip suddenly feeling like an idiot.

            “It depends on the weather. Since it’s still rather warm, I’d say these ones. They’re called tritops. They keep everything flat, but they breath since they don’t cover your stomach like the tanktops do.” Aramis nodded.

            “Does color matter?” Aramis asked.

            “Not really, except if you plan to wear white. Then I’d recommend a nude colored one.” Ninon smiled patiently and Aramis nodded.

            “Thank you.”

            “I’ll leave you to it.” She winked at them before going over to where someone was looking at a stack of books.

            “So, what do you think?” Porthos asked as Aramis ran his fingers over two binders that were the style and color Ninon recommended.

            “I think that this is amazing, but…” Aramis sighed and pulled his hand away. “I don’t have any money. And I don’t want to ask Treville for it.”

            Porthos frowned. “Aramis…”

            “It’s okay,” Aramis lied and waved his hand, plastering on a fake smile. “I’ve gone this long without one.”

            “What’s wrong?” Ninon asked having caught the tail end of their conversation. Aramis flushed in embarrassment.

            “Aramis can’t buy them from you,” Porthos said and shoved his hands into his pockets. Ninon hummed to herself and tapped her bottom lip.

            “How about I make you a deal? I give you three binders if you’ll come and mow the house lawn every other week for… let’s say three months?” Aramis’s heart hammered again his ribs.

            “Really?” He asked.

            “Of course. If I paid you it’d roughly come out the same so why not?” Ninon smiled and Aramis nodded.

            “That sounds amazing,” Aramis said and his voice cracked and tears pricked at his eyes. He stuck his hand out to shake but Ninon shook her head.

            “We seal deals with hugs and kisses around here.” Ninon gently pulled him in for a hug and kissed both his cheeks like she’d done to Porthos when they’d arrived. “I’ll see you next weekend?”

            Aramis nodded as Porthos picked up the right ones that Aramis had been eyeing.

            “Now remember,” Ninon said sternly. “No wearing them during strenuous activity and for no longer than eight hours.”

…..

            Aramis ran his hand over his now flat chest. He shifted and looked at himself from different angles.

            He wanted to cry.

            He finally felt a connection to his body. He grinned and pushed his hair back from his eyes. He moved and grabbed his shirt and slipped it on. It was looser than it was before and Aramis _loved_ it.

            He was still staring at himself in the mirror when Porthos walked in. “Looks good. Great even. How does it feel?”

            “I feel so… relieved,” Aramis admitted and he couldn’t stop running his hands over his chest. It felt solid like muscle. It felt like a promise.

            Porthos laughed and Aramis laughed with him. The binder wasn’t super tight like they were supposed to be when they were brand new, but that also meant it wasn’t uncomfortably tight either. Aramis loved it.

            “What are you two laughing at?” Treville asked and Aramis, still laughing, lifted up his shirt to show Treville the binder. “Is that what you two went to Ninon’s for?”

            Aramis nodded and smoothed his shirt back down.

            Treville laughed and shook his head. “Just remember, it comes off before bed. Ninon’s drilled those rules into my head too, so I won’t forget.” Aramis just nodded and he couldn’t stop smiling.

…..

            Aramis kept his head down and shoulders slumped forward.

            He’d lovingly dubbed the way he walked The Transboy Slump.

            He tried to avoid eye contact with the other students. It was the first week of high school and it wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. He didn’t really know anyone except Porthos, and Porthos was a grade ahead of him. He just felt relieved that they at least had lunch together.

            He was heading to class when he felt someone bump into him. “Sorry,” he mumbled and went to continue walking.

            “The fuck did you just say?” Aramis’s head snapped up as someone jerked him to a halt by the strap of his backpack.

            Aramis pulled out of the older boy’s grip and scowled. “I said: sorry.” Aramis could feel his face heating up as everyone in the hall turned to stare at them.

            “You’re damn right you said sorry,” the boy muttered. Aramis didn’t even realize what he’d done until the boy was sprawled out on the ground, blood pouring from his nose.

            “Aramis!” Aramis jumped, startled, when he heard Porthos’s voice. Porthos blinked at the boy on the ground, now pushing himself up to stand and gawking between Aramis and Porthos, and then turned to Aramis. “I was about to ask if you were okay… guess that’s a stupid question.”

            “My hand does kinda hurt,” Aramis said vaguely.

            “Let’s go,” Porthos said through a fit of giggles and dragged Aramis away and towards the boys’ bathroom. Once they were alone, Porthos burst into full hysterics. Aramis was startled by the sound and he watched Porthos like Porthos had just lost his mind. “That was amazing! I’ve never seen Marcheaux go down so quickly. One punch!” Porthos was wiping tears from his eyes.

            “It’s not funny,” Aramis said, suddenly feeling shaky.

            He’d hit someone.

            He’d hit someone, just like his father hit people.

            Aramis burst into tears.

            Porthos suddenly stopped laughing and he froze. “Aramis… Aramis-wait- wait a second. Hey, what’s wrong?”

            “ _¡Voy a ser como mi padre! ¿Cómo podría hacer tal cosa?_ ” Aramis was choking on his sobs.

            “Whoa, whoa, whoa… hey, it’s alright.” Porthos didn’t understand a word of what Aramis had just said, but he figured it wasn’t good. “Calm down, Aramis. Talk to me. In French, preferably,” Porthos joked.

            Aramis chuckled weakly. He nodded. “I just… I don’t like hitting people. I don’t even know why I did it.”

            “You were upset, probably.” Porthos shrugged. “If Marcheaux messes with you again, which I doubt, I’ll hit him if you don’t want to.”

            “Porthos,” Aramis groaned and shook his head at Porthos’s innocent smile.

            “If you think you’re ready, I’ll walk you to class, how about that?” Porthos offered with a soft smile. Aramis flushed, wiped his eyes one last time and nodded.

            Aramis vowed that after school he was going to confession first thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Spanish I apologize if it's super wrong, I don't speak or know any Spanish other than a word or two so I relied on Google Translate.  
> Also when Porthos uses the term 'queer' it's just as a blanket term, it's 100% not an insult.  
> So that's Aramis's backstory. I know a lot of you were interested in it and it'd been banging around in my brain for a bit! ARamis had a rough start and I hope y'all can sympathize with some of his behaviors now.  
> Comment and tell me what you thought  
> -James


	8. Flashback Part Three: Athos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos's past revealed and the story of how he came to Treville.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of underage sex (all the characters are underage) and underage drinking.

                Athos stood as tall as his thirteen year old frame would let him. He held onto Thomas’s hand tightly as the eleven year old suppressed sobs.

            They were both orphans now.

            After the funeral, their uncle, now their guardian, was going to live with them in their house. The house that had felt too big and empty when there were four people in it, now there was only two.

            There was supposed to be three, but their uncle was always gone and they were always alone.

            Athos sighed heavily and he wandered around the library. Even when his parents had been alive this had been his sanctuary. He let his fingers trail along the spines until he heard feet shuffling behind him.

            “Ollie,” Thomas said brokenly.

            Athos turned to look at Thomas with a smile that he didn’t feel. “What is it, Tommy? You’re supposed to be in bed.” And that was the truth. Thomas was in his pajamas and his brown hair that matched Athos’s own was standing up like he’d been tossing and turning.

            “I can’t sleep. Will you come read me a story and stay ‘til I can?” Athos nodded immediately. He felt lonely too, but he didn’t want to admit it because he was supposed to be being strong for Thomas. That’s what everyone had told him anyway.

            Athos took his brother’s hand and together they climbed the grand staircase up into the wing of the house that had their bedrooms. Thomas’s was across the hall from Athos’s.

            Athos read Thomas a part of _Le Petit Prince_ until he heard Thomas’s breathing even out. That should have been when he got up and left, but Athos didn’t want to leave. He wanted to sit and stay with his baby brother.

            He hadn’t even realized he’d fallen asleep until he was woken up by Blandine, the governess. She tutted at him but there was a fondness in her eyes that softened the sting. He left the room as Blandine woke Thomas up.

            Athos pulled himself together as he pulled his clothes on. He had to keep reminded himself that he had to stay strong, for Thomas.

…..

            Athos was fifteen when they met her.

            She was their private in-home tutor.

            Her name was Anne and she was the most gorgeous thing that Athos had ever seen in his whole life. She had dark curls that were always pristine and perfect, she was confident in her own skin, as tall as Athos was, and her eyes were like sea glass.

            She was coy and teasing and Athos was instantly in love. Thomas seemed taken with her too and Athos tried not to let that annoy him. He’d never been truly angry at Thomas before and he saw no reason to be now.

            “You must be Olivier,” she said and Athos had just nodded, the thought to protest the name he hated had never even crossed his mind. “So this,” she said and looked over Athos’s shoulder to where he was sure that Thomas was hovering, “must be Thomas.”

            Thomas had smiled and spoken with her. Athos was jealous of the ease at which his brother seemed to fit into himself, even at fourteen.

            Thomas was handsome in a put-together kind of way that Athos was sure he’d never achieve. Anne was stunning. Next to them Athos felt so shabby and out of his depth.

            It’d taken only a few weeks for Athos to become totally ensnared and confused as to how this goddess of a woman would pick him over Thomas.

            Their first kiss had happened so suddenly that Athos wasn’t sure whether or not it was good. All he remembered was the next thing he knew, Anne was guiding him upstairs and into bed. They’d kissed and pressed so close that it was like they were trying to crawl into each other’s skin. And maybe they were in a way.

            Athos remembered the way her hair had tickled his collarbones. The way his stubble scraping across her neck had made her breath catch in her throat. The triumph of seeing her completely bare beneath him, something he thought Thomas would never have.

            It was only a few more weeks before Anne brought them both into the study.

            She’d suggested it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

            “Both of you can have me if you like. I’m not opposed to being shared.” Athos felt like his heart had stopped, but he hadn’t felt betrayed. He just marveled at how Thomas had looked between Anne and Athos like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. “Of course, it’d be separate, what with you being brothers.”

            Athos could hear himself laughing but he didn’t know why.

            When Thomas had kissed her, so tentatively and scared at first, he’d only felt resigned. He and Thomas had always shared everything, perhaps this was no different.

            And it wasn’t.

…..

            Athos smiled as he felt lips tracing across his shoulders. He hummed and rolled over without opening his eyes. He caught Anne around the waist and pulled her in for a biting kiss that left him shaking and wanting more.

            “I should wake Thomas.” Then she was gone and Athos had felt cold. He cracked his eyes open and wanted to curse at the way the light made his head throb. He’d thought Anne had been talking at a normal volume, but it was more likely she’d been whispering and Athos’s hangover had just amplified it.

            He groaned and pushed himself up.

            When he glimpsed himself in the mirror he wanted to swear. His eyes were swollen and had dark circles around them. His hair was standing up wildly. His neck and shoulders were littered with bruises, bitemarks, and indents from Anne’s nails. He huffed out a laugh and felt his stomach lurch.

            He swallowed thickly to keep from vomiting.

            He was still studying his reflection when he heard the familiar sound of the maid coming up to serve his breakfast. She gasped when she took in the sight of him and he waved off her concern before she could voice it.

            She settled the tray onto his end table. “Thank you, Yvette. That will be all.”

            “Monsieur…” she said and eyed the dark bruises on his neck and shoulders.

            “I’m alright, that will be all, thank you.” He gave her a look and she scuttled out of the room.

            Athos ran a hand through his hair before he swung his bare legs over the edge of the bed. He rubbed at the ache in his muscles before he stretched and leaned over to grab a piece of toast from the tray. He’d eaten half of it before Anne and Thomas came into the room, Thomas’s breakfast tray in his hands.

            “Tommy!” Athos protested around a mouthful of toast. “Knock!”

            Thomas rolled his eyes. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Ollie. ‘S disgusting.” Athos flushed and swallowed with a scowl at his brother.

            Thomas even looked elegant with a hangover. Bastard.

            “You’re disgusting,” Athos muttered back and Thomas laughed as he settled his tray down on Athos’s bed. He moved over to the dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers and tossed them at Athos.

            “Says the naked man. Honestly, Ollie.” Thomas’s eyeroll was fond. Athos flipping him off was as equally fond as he pulled on the boxers.

            “Boys, please,” Anne said with a smile as she casually stole Thomas’s peach.

            “Anne!” He protested but when she batted her eyelashes as him he sighed. He flopped into bed and picked at his breakfast. Thomas had never really been a breakfast person.

            Athos finished up the last of his eggs before he settled more fully on the bed. “So.”

            “So?” Anne asked and tilted her head.

            “Sooooo,” Thomas grinned as he drew it out. Athos kicked at his brother’s thigh playfully.

            “What’s on the agenda for today?” Athos asked. It was Saturday, which meant no school for them.

            “Fencing’s always an option. And it’s the one thing you can beat me at,” Thomas grinned. His tongue poked through his teeth just a little and Athos rolled his eyes.

            “Very funny, Tommy.”

            “I like to think so,” Anne said and leaned over to press a kiss to the freckle on the side of Thomas’s neck. Athos felt something warm curl into his stomach.

            “I’m sure he does as well,” Athos said and Thomas flipped him off. “Fencing it is.” Athos stood and moved over to pull on some workout clothes.

…..

            Athos popped the champagne and grinned like an idiot as he poured them three of them a glass.

            Maman would have had a coronary to know they were using her best crystal to throw a three person party that was more than likely just going to end in sex. It gave Athos a sense of smug satisfaction.

            He downed his flute of champagne and poured himself another one.

            They were celebrating Athos’s sixteenth birthday and he’d never felt better. Thomas was playing Papa’s old records that they weren’t supposed to touch, but he wasn’t singing like he usually would. He wasn’t drinking like he usually would either.

            “Come on, Tommy,” Athos said and hooked an arm around his brother’s neck. “It’s my birthday!”

            “Sorry, Ollie. I just… I’m not feeling it,” he said and offered his brother a weak, apologetic smile. Athos frowned slightly but he turned to Anne, but she too was off.

            “Not you too,” Athos practically whined.

            “Sorry, darling.” She smiled and pulled him in for a kiss that warmed Athos more than the alcohol. He pulled her in closer as he chased the taste of the bubbles that lingered on her tongue.

            Athos settled into a chair, pulling Anne into his lap and Thomas just looked away, fiddling with the record player. He finished three more glasses of champagne, Anne only having drank two and Thomas having barely touched his first one, before Anne stood and held out her hand.

            “I think it’s time I gave you your present, Olivier.” Athos smiled and took her hand. He’d have followed her straight off the edge of the balcony if that’s where she’d lead him.

            It wasn’t.

            He was in his room and she was shoving him roughly onto his bed.

            “Promise me you’ll always love me,” Anne said against his mouth as she stripped him of his party clothes. “No matter what happens. Promise me.”

            “I promise,” Athos said and arched into her touch.

            After that it was a blur of pleasure and touch and taste. He was still lying there, sheet thrown over his legs, breathing in the lingering scent of her jasmine perfume when Thomas walked in.

            “Ollie,” Thomas said and he hadn’t sounded so small since he was eleven and their parents had just died.

            “Mm?” Athos asked and propped himself up to watch his brother shuffle awkwardly into the room.

            “Is Anne here?”

            “She just left to get cleaned up. Why?” Athos frowned.

            “I need to talk to you about something,” Thomas said and he opened his mouth to speak but Anne’s voice cut him off.

            “What is it, Thomas?”

            Thomas tensed and Athos sobered a little. Athos knew that look.

            Thomas was scared of Anne.

            Athos straightened up and shifted into a protective stance in front of Thomas. Then he hesitated. This was Anne. She loved Thomas, loved him. She’d never hurt them. He relaxed a little.

            “You lied to us!” Thomas accused and suddenly Athos snapped back into the conversation, not having realized there had been one happening.

             “I love you!” Anne cried back and Athos’s head span.

             “Tommy…. What’re you-?”

             “She’s a liar, Ollie!” Thomas said and held onto Athos tightly. “She lied about everything! She just wants us for our inheritance money! She’s a thief! A con-woman!” Thomas’s eyes were welling up with tears and Athos ran a hand over his hair.

             “Oliver, it’s not true!” Anne said and Athos froze. They were both crying and he could only comfort one of them. He felt so inept. “It’s all lies!”

              “Why would Tommy lie to me?” Athos asked. His brain was sluggish but on this he was certain. Thomas wouldn’t lie to him. Never.

              “He’s jealous! He’s jealous of our love!” Anne was shaking and shouting and there was something wild and feral about her eyes.

              “But you love him too… I don’t understand.”

              “That’s because she’s lying, Ollie. She’s trying to turn you against me,” Thomas said pleadingly and Athos took his hand comfortingly. “Tell her to leave, Ollie. I don’t want her here anymore. I can’t be in the same house as her.”

              Athos’s brain went blank. He couldn’t do that. He loved her. Thomas loved her. She loved them. Why should she leave? It didn’t make sense.

              There was more shouting and fighting that Athos’s brain couldn’t keep up with.

              Then all of a sudden it was silent. Athos looked up and Thomas was coming back into his room. Hadn’t he just been sitting next to Athos? “Tommy?”

              “I threw her out, Ollie,” Thomas said and his voice was hollow. “Look at what she was doing to us.”

               Athos just nodded and then his focus became suddenly sharp. Thomas had done _what_?

              “Get out.” Thomas blinked at him. “Get out!” Athos shouted and he threw the nearest thing at Thomas. It was the empty champagne bottle. “Get out of here! You took her away from me!” Athos didn’t even understand what he was saying. Thomas ran out of the room and Athos didn’t chase him. He didn’t want to. He didn’t actually want to hurt Thomas. He couldn’t.

               But he needed her.

               Athos let himself fall backwards onto the bed and he slowly faded out of consciousness.

…..

            The next month was a faded mess of too much alcohol, and not enough food or sleep. Finally, Thomas had had enough. He called an ambulance when he’d found Athos passed out drunk on the bathroom floor.         

            The hospital had given him a choice. Rehab or jail.

            Athos had picked rehab.

            He’d been removed from the house since it was an unsafe environment for Athos since he couldn’t cope. He was kept at the hospital until a suitable home could be found for him. It felt terrible. He wanted a drink more than before and he felt sick whenever he ate.

            He didn’t speak until they finally found somewhere to go with him.

            He met Treville on a rainy Wednesday afternoon at the hospital.

            “You look like hell,” Treville commented and Athos snorted.

            “Feel like hell,” he muttered.

            “I won’t tolerate any drinking in my house. That understood?” Athos blinked and then nodded. He needed to agree. If he agreed and kept up with his program then they’d leave him alone. Maybe he’d even be allowed to move back in with Thomas. “I’ve got two boys staying with me right now. Porthos is my son, Aramis is a foster child. You and Porthos are the same age, Aramis a year younger. That gonna be a problem?” Athos shook his head. “Let’s get you home then,” Treville said and grabbed Athos’s bag. Athos slumped into Treville’s car and just let himself drift as they drove.

            He felt hollow and empty. Just like his parent’s house.

            Oh, the irony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's Athos's story for you.  
> Okay so Athos's chapter is a little choppier and a little less cohesive for two reasons. One, I'm very tired. Two, because I think it fits and reflects well about Athos's life during this time. Hope it's not too confusing to read but if it is, I'm always open for questions.  
> Comment and tell me what you thought  
> -James


	9. Flashback Part Four: d'Artagnan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> d'Artagnan's journey from Gascony to Paris

d’Artagnan couldn’t believe that his father was gone.

He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks but he just felt hollow. He felt this emptiness as he listened, but not really, to the officer. 

Alexandre d’Artagnan had been found dead on his property near the fence line. He’d been shot twice in the chest. It was suspected he’d stumbled upon a trespasser, probably a thief hoping to make off with one of the horses, and been attacked before he even really knew what was happening. 

The officer set a hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder and told him that it’d been quick, that his father hadn’t suffered.

“But he’s still dead,” d’Artagnan spat bitterly. He didn’t care that his father hadn’t suffered. He didn’t care because that still meant his father was dead. That d’Artagnan was alone.

They called his uncle, his father’s brother, and both his uncle and his cousin, Espoir, stayed with him that night. Espoir was his usual bubbly self and instead of lifting d’Artagnan’s spirits like it usually did, it just grated on his nerves.

After an hour, he slipped into his room. He was exhausted and he just wanted to curl up in his bed and go to sleep. So that’s what he did.

It was a few weeks later that d’Artagnan got into his first fight. He couldn’t even remember what it was even really about. One second the boy was shoving him, the next d’Artagnan was being pulled off him with one final kick that landed square on his chin. 

He was taken to the principal’s office and lectured for nearly half an hour. He was completely silent and he stayed that way even as the principal asked questions. He was silent as his uncle was called. He was silent as he was taken home, having been suspended from school.

His uncle started off with just asking questions. d’Artagnan stayed silent. His uncle tried shouting. d’Artagnan’s mouth stayed firmly shut. It wasn’t until his uncle started to shake him that d’Artagnan reacted. He merely shoved his uncle’s hands away with a glare.

He went to his room, did his homework, and went to bed.

That was his routine. Wake up, shower, go to school, get into some kind of trouble, eat lunch, go home, do homework, sleep.

…..

It only took a few more weeks after that for his uncle to get frustrated and they passed him along to another relative. The fighting and the not speaking threw them as well and soon he was bounced to another relative. The cycle kept up until there was no one in Gascony who would take him.

That’s when he was taken to Paris. He’d never really been to the city except for on a few school trips. His stomach twisted up as the woman drove him into the city and to the boys’ home that he was going to stay in.

He hated it immediately. The woman who ran it, Agnès, didn’t like that he didn’t talk and forced him to. He’d grit out short answers. He just didn’t have much to say anymore. He didn’t see the point.

This school wasn’t as bad though. It was smaller and he didn’t have as many people jostling him in the hallways. And no one tried to make friends with him. He was content to slip in and out of his classes like a shadow.

“Charles, if you’ll stay behind,” his writing teacher had said casually when it was time for them to leave. d’Artagnan hunched into himself as the other kids, eyeing him, left. He only lifted his eyes from his desk when his teacher, Mademoiselle Thérèse, settled his narrative essay onto his desk. “You wrote this on your own?”

d’Artagnan nodded and frowned at Thérèse in confusion.

“It’s really good, Charles. Though I worry a little,” Thérèse continued. “This was a nonfiction piece and some of the things you wrote… Are you alright?”

d’Artagnan blinked and he didn’t know exactly why tears were beginning to burn at his eyes. No one had asked him that since his father died.

“I don’t know,” d’Artagnan said softly. Thérèse shifted so she was sitting in a chair.

“Want to tell me about it?”

…..

Agnès walked with him into the therapist’s office that the school counselor recommended. She signed the right documents and after a moment of sitting in awkward silence, d’Artagnan was ushered in to see psychiatrist. 

“Good morning, Charles. My name is Doctor Lemay. How are you?” d’Artagnan just blinked at him. “I’d heard that you weren’t too keen on speaking.” Dr. Lemay smiled and he set his clipboard aside and just sat back. “I just want you to know, Charles, that I’m here to help. I want to help, but I can’t help if you won’t talk to me.”

“d’Artagnan,” d’Artagnan said. “I go by d’Artagnan, not my first name.”

Dr. Lemay smiled. “Alright, d’Artagnan. This is a good start.”

d’Artagnan listened carefully to Dr. Lemay’s questions and answered them as best he could. They talked about how d’Artagnan felt about his father’s death, his foster home, his new school. Then they talked about if d’Artagnan got along with the other children in his school, whether or not he had any friends.

At the end, Dr. Lemay scribbled out a prescription and handed it to d’Artagnan. “You’ll need to get that filled and start them as soon as you get them. They should help make you feel a little more balanced.”

d’Artagnan looked at the scribbles on the paper that he could hardly decipher. He nodded. “Okay.”

“And I hope that you’ll come see me as much as you need, d’Artagnan.” Lemay stood and pulled a card out of his pocket. “This is my office number, the emergency line, and,” Lemay said and flipped the card over and scrawled something on the back, “this is my mobile.” d’Artagnan nodded and smiled weakly as he took the card and tucked it into his pocket. “Don’t hesitate to call me, any time of day.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me, d’Artagnan,” Lemay said seriously and held d’Artagnan’s gaze steadily.

“I promise, Dr. Lemay. Thank you,” d’Artagnan said and he felt a flicker of genuine fondness for the man who was obviously going above and beyond to help him.

…..

d’Artagnan sluggishly read over his English assignment. It wouldn’t go into his brain no matter how many times he read it over. He felt like he was half-asleep most days. His medication made him so lethargic that it was hard to focus for long periods of time. He hadn’t realized he’d slumped down on the table until a hand came down on the table and the noise rattled through his skull. He snapped up to stare glossy-eyed at Feron, his new foster father.

“I won’t tolerate such laziness, d’Artagnan!” Feron snapped.

“Can’t help it-meds-sleepy,” d’Artagnan said around a yawn and Feron wrinkled his nose at the broken and slightly slurred sentences.

“That’s what they all say,” Feron said with scorn.

d’Artagnan’s brain caught up like a rubber band snapping. “I can’t help it!” He snarled.

He wasn’t expecting the slap across his face. He touched his throbbing lip and when he pulled his fingers back they were wet with blood. He stood and Feron scrambled back from him. d’Artagnan had grown to be quite tall even for a fifteen year old. He grabbed up his homework, stormed up the stairs, shoved his meager belongings into his backpack, and then headed for the door. Feron, hindered by his cane, couldn’t stop him as d’Artagnan ran out into the street. He picked a direction and kept walking until his legs began to throb. He found a shelter and tried to force a smile for the receptionist as she helped check him in. He made sure to tell them about his medication and then he bit his split lip awkwardly.

“Could I- would it be a huge trouble…. Can I borrow the phone?” The woman blinked at him and then nodded.

“Of course,” she said and smiled at him. She moved the receiver so he could reach and he smiled thankfully at her. He pulled out the battered card and dialed the mobile number written in smudged ink.

“Lemay.”

“Dr. Lemay, it’s d’Artagnan.” He ran a hand over his face and he felt the sluggish feeling start to settle over him again. “I think I’m in trouble.”

“Are you alright? Where are you?”

“Where am I?” d’Artagnan asked the receptionist and she gave him an address which he repeated back to Lemay.

“Stay there, I’ll be there in a while to get you.”

d’Artagnan nodded and hung up. The receptionist smiled at him sympathetically. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up and then settled until they get here?” d’Artagnan nodded gratefully and she lead him into a room with a few showers. He scrubbed himself down quickly, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d showered was that bad? He pulled on clean clothes, the only other set he had, and then she led him to a cot that was tucked into a secluded corner. He thanked her and slumped into the cot, his exhaustion bone-deep.

He was woken up to see Lemay kneeling next to this cot with concern in his features. d’Artagnan tried to smile, but it pulled on the scabbed over cut on his lip so it was more a grimace.

“Come on, d’Artagnan,” Lemay said and patted his arm. “I called your social worker, she’s got a new home set up for you.” d’Artagnan felt a sob escape his lips before he could squash it down.

“I’m too tired. I don’t want to go to another home,” he sniffed and rubbed at his already raw eyes. His medication was making him like this, but not taking it was just as bad. “Please, Lemay.”

“I’m sorry, d’Artagnan. I don’t have a choice. You’re only fifteen.” d’Artagnan stifled his tears and just slowly pushed himself up. He nodded, retreating into himself again, and stood. He scooped up his bag and followed a distressed looking Lemay as they walked out to the psychiatrist’s car.

d’Artagnan was taken to a large home full of boys. He didn’t even bother to learn his new guardian’s name. She was merely Madame, and that was all.

He was quiet and withdrawn again except for when he was with Lemay. He told Lemay about his meds and how they made him feel. It was just after his sixteenth birthday.

“I don’t want them anymore,” d’Artagnan said. “They make me worse than I was on my own.”

“If that’s what you think is best,” Lemay said and he scribbled down a note on d’Artagnan’s file. “I still want you to come see me, if you need anything.” d’Artagnan nodded and smiled at Lemay in relief.

…..

It felt strange to be fighting again after so long not having any energy. He ducked to avoid a flying fist and grinned, showing off his blood-smeared teeth. “That the best you’ve got?” d’Artagnan taunted and it only served to infuriate the boy more. When he lunched in, d’Artagnan ducked under his wild swing to hit him squarely on the nose. d’Artagnan could feel and hear the click under his fist.

Blood spattered his shirt and ran down the boy’s face. He held his nose to try and staunch the bleeding and d’Artagnan was about to throw another punch when his arm was caught, twisted behind his back, and he was shoved so his chest was against the wall.

“That’s enough!” Whoever it was holding him snarled in his ear. d’Artagnan didn’t fight against the hold. He was taken to the principal’s office where he sat and listened to a lecture. 

“You’ve gone through half the foster homes in Paris! Your current foster mother won’t have you anymore. She says you’re a danger to her other charges!” The principal blustered. “And I won’t stand for you to be in this school any longer!” d’Artagnan nodded impassively. “Your foster mother has sent your belongings and you will have a police escort to your new home.” The man set down a set of folded clothes and d’Artagnan shoved them into his beaten knapsack. The principal gestured to someone behind d’Artagnan. “He’s yours, Officer de Foix.”

The officer nodded and when d’Artagnan looked at him he seemed to take a breath, like he didn’t really want to say what he was going to but he had to. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to cuff you, young man.”

“Alright,” he said and slipped his backpack onto his shoulders. He held his hands steady behind his back, under where his backpack sat, as the officer cuffed him. They walked out of the school and d’Artagnan sucked in a deep breath.“Where are we going?”

“A friend’s. He takes in troubled kids, like you, and straightens them out.” d’Artagnan laughed at the choice of phrasing. “He’s stern but fair. You might even like him.”

“Doubt it,” d’Artagnan muttered to himself as the officer settled him into the car. He leaned back into the seats and shut his aching eyes. He was sure that he had a black eye forming, but he didn’t care all that much. It was just another wound to add to the growing list. He settled as much as he could for the ride to this “friend’s” house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to the readers who gave me some pretty awesome ideas that came together really well to help influence this part of the story! I also have to say that this part of the story was influenced by Luke Pasqualino also playing the mute character Grey in Snowpiecer (an incredible movie that you should totally watch if you haven't). d'Artagnan's choice not to speak and some of his more aggressive moments are very much influenced by Grey.  
> Hope y'all liked this and it helps to clarify d'Artagnan's story!  
> Comment and tell me what you thought!  
> -James


	10. Hormones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a house full of teenage boys, hormones are bound to fly. (AKA the one where everyone has a moment of inconvenient arousal)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: it's about to get a little sexually graphic

            Aramis being absent from their bedroom at night had never been an out of place occurrence. d’Artagnan usually just went to bed and didn’t dwell on it too much.

            Maybe it was that he’d had too much caffeine during the day and it was keeping him up, or maybe it was that he’d been more perceptive of the looks that Aramis had been sending Athos and Porthos.

            Whatever it was, d’Artagnan laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, and focusing on Aramis’s absence from their room.

            He heard a thud from Porthos’s room, also a pretty common noise since they shared one wall with Porthos and his bed was against that wall. Sometimes in his sleep he would shift and the bed would hit the wall.

            The sound that followed it was what finally caught d’Artagnan’s full attention.

            It was a moan.

            A sexy moan.

            d’Artagnan flushed and he felt something warm settle in his stomach as the thud sounded again and d’Artagnan heard another moan, muffled slightly by the wall.

            His face felt hot as he pushed himself up. He heard the muffled sound of a voice, the words unintelligible, but then another moan made d’Artagnan’s stomach churn hotly.

            He couldn’t believe he was getting turned on to the sound of Porthos and Aramis going at it.

            Alright, that wasn’t completely true.

            Aramis was constantly flirting and teasing d’Artagnan in the most wonderful and terrible ways. Porthos, well you just had to look at Porthos and you’d be attracted to him. Of course, there was more to it than that, but d’Artagnan’s brain wasn’t thinking about that. He was thinking about Porthos’s hands running over every inch of Aramis’s skin. He was thinking about the way Aramis’s back would arch into each touch. Almost as if responding to d’Artagnan’s thoughts he heard another moan, but this time intermingled with a name that had d’Artagnan’s blood rushing even hotter in his veins.

            “Athos!” It was muffled by the wall but there was no way that d’Artagnan could mistake it. He’d heard Aramis, and it was Aramis, say Athos’s name so many times he could have recognized it in his sleep.

            It made him jerk to his feet and he was halfway to the door before he came to a sudden halt. What was he doing?

            His first thought was to awkwardly knock on the door and just ask them to keep it down a little, he _was_ trying to sleep. That sounded like both a terrible and wonderful idea. He pushed it away but then immediately pulled it back. It was the only idea that he had.

            He slipped out of the room but he balked when he noticed that Porthos’s door was open a little. He drifted over and he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Aramis was sitting up on the edge of the bed, his head tipped back and eyes screwed shut tightly. He was shaking and he was, as d’Artagnan thought, the one moaning without abandon.

            d’Artagnan only had to flick his eyes down a little to see why.

            Nestled between Aramis’s thighs was Athos. d’Artagnan had to clench his hands at his sides at the sight of Athos with Aramis’s legs from the knee down over his shoulders and clearly using his mouth on Aramis. And well based on Aramis’s sounds and the tightness of his grip in Athos’s hair. d’Artagnan’s mouth went very dry as Aramis arched at whatever Athos was doing and let out a litany of curses.

            “Athos,” Aramis whined and tugged on Athos’s hair. “ _Please_.”

            d’Artagnan’s sweatpants felt overwhelmingly tight as he pulled his eyes away from Aramis and traced them over the lines of Athos’s back. d’Artagnan had never realized how muscled Athos was until now. It was probably because next to Porthos everyone looked so thin.

            With that, d’Artagnan let his eyes drift over to Porthos. He was kneeling on the floor next to Athos, his chin on Athos’s shoulder. d’Artagnan watched as Porthos whispered something in Athos’s ear and the muscles in Athos’s shoulders twitched. It hit d’Artagnan like a brick. Porthos was palming Athos through his pants and that’s what was making his muscles jerk, and he was probably moaning into Aramis.

            The thought was extremely hot and d’Artagnan lost all thoughts of telling them to stop. But he had to pull himself away.

            He stumbled away from the door, unfortunately it was louder than he’d wanted, and he headed straight into the bathroom. He hoped that would be a convincing excuse. He did have to pass Porthos’s door on the way from his and Aramis’s room.

            He closed the door and locked it behind him.

            He needed a cold shower.

            He ran a hand through his hair and moved over to turn the shower on. He stripped out of his shirt and when he tossed it onto the counter he caught his reflection. His cheeks were flushed and his hair looked like it’d been mussed in a way other than him running his hair through it. He bit his lip and traced his eyes downwards.

            He had to stifle a moan of his own at seeing his sweatpants tented obscenely. He was glad when he shook himself and stepped away. He shed his sweatpants and underwear and stepped into the shower.

            The cold water was a shock and it dampened his arousal considerably. After a while he felt a little less heated. He bumped the water’s temperature up just a little so it wasn’t a spray of ice on his chest and stomach. He soaked for a while until he felt a little better, then he hopped out and dried off.

            He pulled his clothes on quickly, not even bothering to dry his hair more than a cursory pass of the towel over his hair, and headed back into his and Aramis’s room without stopping to gawk into Porthos’s room.

            Once he laid down he could still hear noises, from more than just Aramis after a while, and he curled onto his side.

            He needed to invest in earplugs.

…..

            Athos fidgeted restlessly as he tried to focus. It was certainly hard as he watched Aramis pressed up against d’Artagnan’s back, coaching him through some new movements as Porthos stood as a target.

            The sight of Aramis talking quietly into d’Artagnan’s ear while there was barely a hair’s breadth between them, it made Athos feel like electricity was coursing along his skin.

            “Right, Athos?” Aramis asked, smirking at him.

            Athos jerked slightly and he blinked. “What?”

            Aramis laughed and d’Artagnan smiled, a flush, from more than exertion, spreading across his cheeks. “I was making sure that I was tell d’Artagnan the right thing.”

            “You fence nearly as well as I do, Aramis. You don’t need me to approve everything.” Athos shrugged and Aramis tilted his head in silent question. Athos just shrugged in response.

            Aramis went back to telling d’Artagnan thing in a quiet voice. Athos could sympathize with d’Artagnan as Aramis pressed closer, hands dropping from d’Artagnan’s arms to his hips to show the fluidity of the next movement. The boy’s face got redder and redder with each passing moment, and Aramis was well aware of what he was doing as he straightened up just so to brush teasingly along d’Artagnan’s thighs.

            Athos had to look away. He broke away, feeling hot under the collar himself, as he moved to get some water. He gulped down a few mouthfuls. He heard movement behind him and then d’Artagnan was next to him, picking up his water bottle. Athos assumed, based on the sweat pooling at his temple, that he was thirsty, but he ended up dumping the whole thing over his head.

            Athos nearly choked as d’Artagnan’s shirt turned nearly transparent and clung to his skin.

            “I think I’m done for today,” Athos said and he was about to head back into the house when d’Artagnan’s hand on his arm stopped him.

            “Come on, Athos. Just one quick round.” Athos’s brain nearly short-circuited until he realized what d’Artagnan had a _ctually_ meant. “Please?”

            Athos wanted to curse at the way d’Artagnan’s brown eyes made him want to immediately give in. He sighed heavily before nodding. “Alright, but just one,” he said sternly. d’Artagnan grinned and he headed out into the more open spot of the yard. Aramis and Porthos glanced at each other with matching grins before they stepped out of the way.

            Athos made sure to stretch again, and made d’Artagnan stretch his shoulder better, before he tapped his blade against d’Artagnan’s. “To five,” he said and nodded to Aramis and Porthos who would be keeping score and calling touches.

            “To five,” d’Artagnan agreed.

            When Aramis whistled they began. Athos had to admit that d’Artagnan was catching on quickly. He scored a touch on Athos after Athos had already scored his first two. Athos nodded at him, impressed before Aramis whistled again and they were clashing once more. It was a hard match but Athos inevitably, and predictably, won.

            d’Artagnan groaned dramatically as he fell onto his back in the grass, his face red and chest heaving. Athos drank in the sight and his brain, unhelpfully, supplied a few more scenarios that could have d’Artagnan looking like this again. Athos shook his head as if he could dislodge the thought.

            “Amazing,” Aramis said and offered a hand to help d’Artagnan up. The younger took it and let Aramis haul him to his feet. “You kept up with Athos.”

            “Rubbish,” Porthos snorted and wrapped an arm around Athos’s shoulders. “Athos just didn’t want to hurt him.”

            Athos rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his sweaty mess of hair. “Not this time, Porthos. d’Artagnan had me for a while, but he got overconfident.” Athos slipped from Porthos’s grip and moved over to clap a hand down on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “Here’s the best piece of advice I can give you, and one that my many fencing instructors told me.” Athos pressed his forehead to d’Artagnan’s and cradled the back of the boy’s head. “Head,” he said quietly and then pressed his hand to d’Artagnan’s chest, “over heart. Always.” Athos pulled back from d’Artagnan but left his hand over the boy’s heart. Even through his gloves he could feel d’Artagnan’s heart hammering. It made Athos suddenly realize how close he’d been. He stepped back and nodded. “Understood?”

            “Yes,” d’Artagnan said breathlessly. Athos watched a tremor run through d’Artagnan as he let his hand drop.

            “Now I’m headed inside,” Athos said and tried to ignore the way that Aramis and Porthos were staring at him.

            He headed inside and he heard them following him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Aramis and Porthos but d’Artagnan had stayed behind. He was thankful of that when Aramis started talking.

            “I thought you were going to kiss him.” Athos snorted and shook his head. “Honestly, Athos. That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, must’ve been even better for d’Artagnan. The way he was shaking.” Aramis whistled and Athos shoved his shoulder.

            “Says the one who was practically grinding against d’Artagnan while correcting his form,” Athos huffed a laugh through his nose. “Don’t look at me like that, I noticed.”

            “Good,” Aramis purred and Athos swallowed thickly as Aramis pushed ahead of him, an extra amount of sway in his hips.

            “He’ll be the death of us,” Porthos said and pulled Athos into his side.

            “Him and d’Artagnan both.”

…..

            Porthos was usually good at keeping himself under control. He prided himself on it. He wasn’t one of those guys that was ruled by his dick, or used it as an excuse for whatever he did.

            That didn’t mean that he wasn’t tempted.

            Like when he was supposed to be in class and Aramis kept sexting him.

_What’re you wearing? ;)_

            Porthos had to hold in a snort as he typed his reply one handed under the desk.

_Same fucking thing as you. We wear uniforms_

            That seemed to put Aramis off for a moment. Porthos was jotting down an important note when his phone buzzed against his thigh.

_You wanna fuck in the bathroom?_

_Again?_

_I’m wound up. Idk. Just want you._

            Porthos blew out a breath and Athos glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. Athos raised a single eyebrow in question. Porthos just tapped his thigh where he’d normally have his phone in his pocket and Athos rolled his eyes. He too had been the victim of one of Aramis’s hypersexual moments.

_You in class or are you waiting already?_

_Waiting ;)_

            Porthos felt a hot tingle run down his spine as he subtly tucked his phone into his pocket. He raised his hand.

            “Yes, Porthos?”

            “May I be excused to go to the bathroom?” Porthos asked and the teacher looked at him with a slight frown before nodding.

            “Go ahead.” Porthos stood and walked out briskly.

            He slipped into the bathroom and Aramis was waiting, as promised. “Thank God,” Aramis said and grabbed Porthos’s collar and pushed him into the wall to kiss his fiercely. It made Porthos shudder as Aramis teased him with just a hint of tongue and teeth.

            Porthos pulled back and nodded toward one of the stalls. Aramis nodded and dragged Porthos into it. He locked the door with one hand as he untucked Porthos’s shirt with the other. “Maybe- _shit_ \- maybe we should-” Porthos was cut off by a groan as Aramis bit his neck. “-should just-be quick.”

            Aramis nodded and undid Porthos’s belt expertly. He grinned as he pulled back after unbuttoning Porthos’s pants. Porthos felt suddenly cold at Aramis’s moving away from him, but it was instantly replaced with a burning heat in his stomach as Aramis sank to his knees. It was nearly unbearably as Aramis leaned forward, eyes closed, and mouthed at the line of Porthos’s dick through his pants. Porthos crammed his fist in his mouth to muffle the noise that threatened to echo too loudly against the tile of the bathroom. It was made worse when Aramis pressed forward to unzip Porthos’s zipper with his teeth, eyes now open and trained on Porthos.

            Porthos’s head fell back against the wall with a loud rattle. “You’re the worst,” Porthos said.

            “I think you mean best,” Aramis said and pushed Porthos’s trousers and boxers down just enough for him to do what he wanted.

            Porthos opened his mouth to respond but Aramis’s mouth closing around him had whatever he was going to say flying out of his head. “ _Fuck_ ,” Porthos groaned and covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

            Porthos’s thighs were trembling by the time Aramis finally had mercy and let him fall apart. Porthos’s fingers were knotted into Aramis’s hair and when Porthos’s muscles finally relaxed, with only minor tremors running through them, he let go. Aramis pulled away with a smirk as he tucked Porthos back into his pants and did them up.

            When Aramis stood, knees obviously a little stiff from the cold tile of the floor, Porthos noted the smudge of white at the corner of his mouth. Aramis grinned and thumbed it away before getting on toes to press close to Porthos and kiss him.

            Porthos shuddered at the taste of himself on Aramis’s lips and tongue.

            “We shouldn’t make a habit of this,” Porthos said quietly as he pushed his hand into Aramis’s loose trousers. Aramis liked to walk around with his shirt untucked and pants falling around his hips so when he lifted his arms everyone caught a glimpse of skin and the waistband of his boxer briefs. He let his fingers brush and trace Aramis’s abdomen through his underwear. Aramis buried his face in Porthos’s shoulder and pushed into the touch.

            “Yet you showed up,” Aramis panted out against Porthos’s shirt. Porthos hummed and caught Aramis’s mouth in a kiss as he finally slipped his fingers into the fly of Aramis’s underwear. Aramis made a high noise into Porthos’s mouth that made Porthos grin into their kiss.

            “You like that?” Porthos asked, moving his mouth right next to Aramis’s ear so he could be quiet. “You like me getting you off in public? I bet you get off on the thought of us getting caught, we could get caught.” Porthos let his lips brush against the sensitive spot right under Aramis’s ear. Aramis was shaking with the effort to keep quiet. They could both get into so much trouble if anyone found out that they ever did this.

            Porthos sped up his efforts and when he had Aramis shaking in his arms and biting his fist to keep in his noises, perched on the edge, he slowed down. Aramis let out a string of curses in Spanish and bucked his hips against Porthos’s fingers.

            “Not… not fair,” Aramis panted out and pulled back just enough to glare at Porthos. “Didn’t- _fuck me_ \- didn’t do this to you.”

            Porthos hummed and nodded. “Fair enough.” He sped up and he brushed his knuckle against Aramis’s clit.

            Aramis’s hips jerked and he let out a shaky groan. Porthos kept still, attuned to how sensitive Aramis would be, and just let Aramis work his hips at his own pace. When Aramis fell still, Porthos pulled his hand away and kissed Aramis softly. Aramis was pliant and loose under Porthos as he pulled back and helped Aramis’s shaky hands do up his pants again.

            “Better?” Porthos asked and Aramis nodded, eyes still a little dazed, his face flushed as he rode the afterwaves of pleasure.

            “Yeah,” he breathed and gave Porthos a final kiss. “See you after school?”

            Porthos nodded and they stepped out of the stall. Porthos went over to the sink, washed his hands, dried them, and then threw the wadded paper towel into the trash. “Love you.”

            “Love you too.” Aramis was splashing a little cold water on his face when Porthos walked out. Porthos whistled as he walked down the hall. He had a bounce in his step as he slid back into his seat next to Athos. Athos rolled his eyes with a knowing grin but it was washed away quickly when only a few hours later his own phone went off in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a bit of a lighter chapter because the thought hit me and it seemed hilarious to me.  
> Also, in regards to the terminology used for Aramis's genitals, (as a transguy myself) it's just a word and in no way meant to be offensive or undermining of Aramis's transness. It's just a term for a body part that Aramis DOES have.


	11. Matches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matches are made in more than one sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: homophobic slurs used in this chapter

            d’Artagnan fidgeted in his seat and clenched his hands in anticipation. He and Treville had been watching Aramis, Porthos, and Athos’s matches as they advanced through the tournament.

            He scowled as Aramis lost his match, eliminating him, but when he pulled his mask off he was smiling as he shook his opponent’s hand good-naturedly. He stayed on the sidelines but waved at Treville and d’Artagnan. d’Artagnan grinned back and waved slightly.

            Not long after Porthos and Athos were matched against each other. d’Artagnan’s grip on the edge of his chair was white around the knuckles but Treville just settled a hand on his shoulder. d’Artagnan smiled without looking at Treville. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Porthos and Athos.

            Porthos’s moves were clean and there was more force behind each one. Athos was all smooth lines and fluid movements. It was like they were trying to show off for each other. They probably were.

            Athos ended up winning the match by a close margin. They pulled their masks off and shook hands before they hugged each other. Porthos winked at Athos before slapping him on the ass. Athos turned red and said something that neither Treville nor d’Artagnan could hear. Porthos’s responding laugh, on the other hand, they could hear clearly.

            Porthos walked over as they set up the final match and talked for a bit.

            “Do you think Athos could win?” d’Artagnan asked quietly. Porthos shrugged and looked over his shoulder at where Athos was talking to some other fencers. He was nodding and obviously much more at ease than he usually was with people.

            “It’s a good day, so probably,” Porthos said. When they heard the whistle and Athos’s name was called Porthos nodded to them and headed to stand next to Aramis, who was talking quietly to Athos. He kissed Athos on the cheek, as did Porthos. Athos’s face was red as he slipped his mask on and headed onto the mat.

            d’Artagnan was on the edge of his seat as Athos went up, saluted his opponent, and then stood in perfect form. The match began and d’Artagnan could see that it wasn’t going to be an easy one for Athos. The other boy was swift and brutal and hardly stopped in his movements except for when it was mandatory when a touch was scored.

            The score was 13-13 when it happened. Athos had lunged and the boy had knocked Athos’s blade away and slammed his shoulder into Athos’s. Athos stumbled backward and landed hard on his back. The whole crowd was on their feet instantly, shouting. Aramis had to hold onto Porthos’s arm to keep him from storming up to the referee.

            d’Artagnan watched as Athos pushed himself to his feet and the referee, having called another over, pulled out and held up a black card. d’Artagnan also watched as Athos walked over, limping slightly, and spoke to them. No one but the referees would have been able to hear a word, but when Athos stepped away the referees put away the black card, had it scratched from the score sheets, and held up a red card instead. The score was now 14-13 and the match would continue.

            “I’m going down to Porthos and Aramis,” d’Artagnan said and touched Treville’s shoulder. The man nodded and d’Artagnan headed down to stand between Aramis and Porthos. “Is he alright?” d’Artagnan asked.

            Porthos was biting his lip so Aramis was the one that answered. “He’s hurt something, that’s for sure.”

            d’Artagnan kept his eyes on Athos. He was moving a little slower but he was no less graceful and no less incredible. Athos parried the boy’s clumsy lunge, the first mistake they’d seen, and with a flawless riposte scored the winning point.

            Aramis and Porthos immediately started clapping and whistling and d’Artagnan grinned and shouted. Athos shook hands with his opponent and the referees before pulling his mask off. His hair was sticking up in some places and plastered with sweat in others. His face was red, and d’Artagnan could see that he was suppressing a grin.

            Athos turned to them and before d’Artagnan realized what he was doing, he ran over and pulled Athos into a firm kiss. He felt Athos tense with surprise for just a moment before he returned the kiss with equal fervor. d’Artagnan smiled into it as he heard Aramis and Porthos wolf-whistling them. d’Artagnan pulled back and Athos looked a little dazed but still just as energetic and thrilled as he had before.

            “Took you long enough,” Athos muttered. His hands were still around d’Artagnan’s waist and the younger could feel the cool press of Athos’s épée against the back of his thigh.

            “Could say the same to you,” d’Artagnan said with a laugh.

            “I’d say this calls for a celebration,” Aramis grinned and ruffled Athos’s sweaty hair. Athos let his arms drop from around d’Artagnan so he could swat Aramis in the stomach with his blade. Athos ducked his head as Aramis and Porthos recounted he match in increasingly ridiculous exaggerations and d’Artagnan slipped his hand into Athos’s gloved one. Athos glanced at him and squeezed his hand.

…..

            They ended up all crammed together in a corner booth at the ice cream place. d’Artagnan grinned despite being pressed against the cold wall, because Athos was pressed to his other side and both Porthos’s and Aramis’s legs were tangled with his under the table. They were more talking about the matched then actually eating their ice cream, but d’Artagnan didn’t mind. He leaned back so that Athos’s arm, which was draped over the back of the booth seat, was pressed against his shoulders.

            Athos casually let it fall from the booth to actually rest on d’Artagnan’s shoulders. Aramis and Porthos both grinned at the sight and finally turned to their half-melted ice creams. They were eating when Aramis pushed his sundae away suddenly. “So is this a thing now?” Aramis asked and glanced between Athos and d’Artagnan.

            d’Artagnan tensed minutely but when he looked at Aramis he just looked curious, almost… eager? d’Artagnan looked at Porthos to see him just watching impassively. d’Artagnan turned to look at Athos, who was watching him.

            “I think so,” Athos said and d’Artagnan grinned.

            “Yes,” d’Artagnan said and Athos’s mouth quirked up into one of his wry smiles.

            “Good, I couldn’t stand you two pining any longer,” Aramis huffed and Porthos slapped him upside the head.

            “Tact, Aramis.”

            “Who’s she?” Aramis grinned and Porthos rolled his eyes. d’Artagnan laughed and shook his head, letting himself lean a little more into Athos’s side.

            “I’m happy for you,” Porthos said and knocked his knee into Athos’s under the table. “Both of you.” But something seemed off. d’Artagnan frowned slightly and glanced at Athos, who was frowning also.

            d’Artagnan wanted to say something. Say that he didn’t mind that Athos was with them too, he’d known that for a while now. He wanted to say a lot of things, but he just ducked his head and finished his ice cream.

…..

            Athos leaned against Porthos’s doorframe and crossed his arms, staring at Aramis and Porthos with a frown. “What was the attitude about earlier?”

            “What do you mean?” Porthos asked without looking up.

            “With d’Artagnan,” Athos said and waited patiently as both Aramis and Porthos avoided looking at him. “He thinks that he’s pissed you off. That you’re suddenly going to change your minds and take me away.” Athos chuckled at the dramatics that d’Artagnan had talked about. But it was understandable to a point. He too had felt like in intruder in the early days of his, Aramis, and Porthos’s relationship.

            “We would never,” Porthos said, affronted.

            “I know that,” Athos reassured, “but he doesn’t. You’re his friends, his only friends, and he’s worried. He did, technically, just steal your boyfriend.”

            “Does he-” Aramis cut himself off and shook his head. There was no way.

            “What?” Athos asked.

            “Does he want to… does he want to be included in _this_?” Aramis asked and gestured between the three of them. Athos took a breath and slowly released it.

            “I don’t know,” Athos said honestly and then smirked. “Though I’m sure he wouldn’t be completely opposed.”

            “How do you know that?” Porthos asked and raised an eyebrow.

            “Trust me,” Athos said and pushed off the doorframe. “We’ll talk to him about it later. Maybe piling all the poly stuff on him right now when he’s still too nervous to hold my hand without asking isn’t the best idea.”

            Porthos laughed outrightly at the thought of headstrong and stubborn d’Artagnan cowering at the thought of holding Athos’s hand.

…..

            “Is it okay if I-?” d’Artagnan started to ask and Athos just rolled his eyes and took d’Artagnan’s hand gently.

            “Yes, d’Artagnan,” Athos said with fond exasperation, “it’s alright. I wouldn’t have agreed to go steady with you if I wasn’t alright with this.” Athos held up their joined hands for emphasis.

            “Did you honestly just say ‘go steady with you’?” Athos flushed as d’Artagnan laughed brightly. “My God! You’re such an old man!”

            “Fine,” Athos muttered. “I won’t say it again.”

            “No, no, no!” d’Artagnan said and stopped suddenly. “Don’t stop, I love it. I just wasn’t expecting it from you.”

            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Athos asked with a frown.

            “I just mean…” d’Artagnan flushed and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “You always seem so cool and aloof.”

            Athos snorted and shook his head. “Why does that mean I can’t use old slang?”

            “Old? Athos, that phrase is ancient!” d’Artagnan shook his head. “That sounds like something my grandfather would say, not my boyfriend.”

            “Well, he does say it,” Athos said and made a face.

            “I know that now,” d’Artagnan said and turned to face Athos so he could grab the lapels of Athos’s jacket. “It’s kinda sexy, now that I think about it.”

            Athos grinned and slipped his hands into d’Artagnan’s back pockets casually, causing the younger to jump and accidentally press into Athos further. “Well when you put it that way… want to neck it in the back seat of the car?”

            “Absolutely,” d’Artagnan said and Athos laughed before hooking his finger in d’Artagnan belt to pull him into the car. “One question.”

            “What’s that?” Athos asked.

            “The hell does that even mean?”

…..

            d’Artagnan grinned and pressed a swift kiss to Athos’s cheek and waved to Aramis and Porthos before headed to class. He was making his way to his math class when he saw a boy crowding uncomfortably close to Constance. d’Artagnan could see that Constance kept trying to get away but the boy had blocked her no matter where she tried to go.

            “Hey!” d’Artagnan said and pulled the red-haired boy back away from Constance. “Back off.”

            “The lady can speak for herself, don’t you think?” The boy sneered.

            “Constance, are you alright?” d’Artagnan asked, ignoring the other boy.

            Constance was slightly pale and shaky. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

            “Come on,” he said and held his hand out for her. She took it and he gently tugged her away. He saw people beginning to stare and he spotted Aramis and Porthos. “There,” he said and guided her that way.

            “What’s your problem?” d’Artagnan whipped around to stare at the boy who was glaring at him.

            “I could ask _you_ the same thing,” d’Artagnan snarled.

            “She was just playing hard to get telling me no like that,” the boy scoffed and d’Artagnan felt his temper flare hotly.

            “No, she was telling you no because she meant no.” d’Artagnan glared.

            “What do you know about women? Fucking faggot.” He went to shove past d’Artagnan but d’Artagnan grabbed him.

            “What did you just say to me?” d’Artagnan snarled.

            “d’Artagnan!” He felt a hand land on his shoulder and he turned to see Athos. “He’s not worth it.” d’Artagnan clenched his jaw and sighed heavily. He turned to leave.

            “That’s right, run. Hide behind your cocksucking boyfriend.”

            d’Artagnan turned and punched the boy straight in the nose. He shook out his hand as Athos hauled him away. “You’re an idiot,” Athos muttered. “Marcheaux’s not worth it.”

            “No, he’s not. But you are,” d’Artagnan said and tugged on Athos’s arm to stop him.

            Athos blinked at him and then sighed. “Not if you get expelled.”

            d’Artagnan shrugged and they kept walking. They went to class and d’Artagnan brought Athos in for a quick kiss. “Hope you’re not mad at me.”

            “Not mad at you, no. Not happy with you either.” Athos gave him a stern look. “Just… don’t do it again?”

            “No promises,” d’Artagnan said and Athos just rolled his eyes. He shoved d’Artagnan toward his classroom and walked away, shaking his head.

…..

            “Why did I get a call from your school saying you’d punched another student?”

            They’d hardly stepped inside the door when Treville was scowling at them and staring them down.

            d’Artagnan took a breath. “It was me,” d’Artagnan said. “He was cornering Constance.”

            “So you hit him?”

            “No,” d’Artagnan said and Athos set his hand on the small of d’Artagnan’s back. “I was going to leave it when he called me a faggot,” Treville flinched. “But then he called Athos a cocksucker. That’s when I hit him.”

            Treville tensed and he rubbed his eyes, a familiar gesture when he was trying to ward off a headache. “Go on then, but don’t make a habit of it.”

            “No, sir.”

            “Wait,” Treville said as the four of them started up the stairs. “Was it at least a good hit?”

            d’Artagnan showed Treville his swollen and bruised knuckles. “I’d say so.”

            “Spectacular,” Porthos said and nodded.

            “Alright. Homework,” Treville said and waved his hand. d’Artagnan smiled and ducked his head as they all piled into his and Aramis’s room to do their homework together.

…..

            They were all tangled together fiddling with their phones or, in Athos’s case, reading. d’Artagnan was nestled with his head pillowed on both Athos and Porthos’s shoulder. Aramis was sprawled across Porthos’s chest with his chin perched on d’Artagnan’s stomach.

            “This is nice,” Aramis hummed.

            d’Artagnan hummed and placed his phone down on his chest, turning his face into Athos’s side. Athos ran his fingers through d’Artagnan’s hair and he hummed his approval at Athos’s actions.

            Aramis watched the two and then he glanced at Porthos, who was smiling at them. Aramis shifted and he pressed his cheek to d’Artagnan’s stomach. They all fell into a comfortable silence, completely relaxed into each other.

            That was how Treville found them. Mostly asleep and in tangled heap. He smiled to himself and backed out of the room to let them sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked that chapter! A lot has happened and now we've got the beginnings of the boys' relationship.  
> There won't be another chapter up for a bit because I'm going on holiday for a few days and won't have any Internet so bear with me, it's still being written just taking a little breather.


	12. Family Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Athos takes a trip and d'Artagnan get closer to Aramis and Porthos.

            d’Artagnan watched as Athos threw things into a duffel bag.

            “Do you have to go?” d’Artagnan asked. Athos rolled his eyes as he took a folded shirt and shoved it into the bag.

            “Yes,” Athos said and nodded. “Tommy and I always take this trip. Every year since we were separated.”

            “Where?” d’Artagnan asked and started pulling Athos’s clothes out of his bag so he could refold them and set them in carefully.

            “London,” Athos said casually. d’Artagnan balked and he stared at Athos, Athos’s dark t-shirt dangling from his fingers. “Thomas and I went when we were young. We both loved it so much that we made a pact to go back. We never found a reason until we were separated.”

            “It’s a good thing, then.” d’Artagnan continued folding and laid the last shirt down before pulling Athos in by his belt loops. Athos let himself be pulled with a small smile tugging at his mouth. “But I have to say, I’ll miss you.”

            “Oh?” Athos asked and leaned down to brush his mouth teasingly against d’Artagnan’s.

            d’Artagnan leaned up and brought Athos down into a firm kiss. Athos shifted d’Artagnan back so he was sprawled back on Athos’s bed. d’Artagnan hummed and arched up against Athos’s chest but Athos just pulled away. d’Artagnan nearly whined as Athos stepped away to finish packing.

            d’Artagnan watched with a faint tension of frustration. He really liked Athos, and he felt like he wanted more, but every time the moment presented itself Athos pulled away. d’Artagnan didn’t want to push, but patience had never been his strong suit.

            “Nearly ready?” d’Artagnan asked and pushed himself up onto his elbows so he could watch Athos tuck some extra sets of socks into his duffle bag.

            “Nearly,” Athos said and tucked one last thing into his bag before zipping it up. “Finished.” Athos flopped back onto the bed next to d’Artagnan. “Now all I need is for Treville to give me my passport when I leave tomorrow.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and they settled into a comfortable silence. “I’m glad that you’re going with Thomas, but I’ll miss you.”

            “It’s just a few days,” Athos reassured and shifted so he could look at d’Artagnan without straining his neck.

            “I know,” d’Artagnan said and shuffled closer.

            “Sap,” Athos accused and d’Artagnan merely laughed.

            “For you, always.” d’Artagnan pushed himself up so he could kiss Athos again. Athos ran his fingers through d’Artagnan’s hair and tugged on it gently. d’Artagnan made a high noise in the back of his throat and Athos tightened his grip a little. Athos had just shifted to be settled more on top of d’Artagnan when they heard someone clear their throat.

            They broke apart and both turned to look at the doorway. Aramis was standing there with a wide grin and Porthos was shaking his head.

            “Might I help you, gentlemen?” Athos asked with a dark look at his other lovers. d’Artagnan had to stifle both a groan of frustration and a laugh at the look on Athos’s face.

            “Just wanted to see how things were going,” Aramis said. “Usually takes you longer to pack. Guess you had incentive.”

            d’Artagnan’s face felt hot and he no doubt had a flush coloring his cheeks. Athos sighed and moved so he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

            “Everything’s fine, Aramis.” Athos pushed his hair from his eyes, and the look that he was giving the two of them spoke of another conversation being held between the three of them. “It’s only a few days.”

            “Well, we’ll miss you anyway.” Aramis moved over to settle on Athos’s other side. d’Artagnan pushed himself up as Porthos settled against the table. “Though, don’t let that stop you from having fun.”

            “I won’t,” Athos said and kissed Aramis placatingly. d’Artagnan smiled and leaned into Athos’s shoulder. “Besides, even if I wanted to be miserable, Tommy wouldn’t allow it.”

            “Good, you deserve a break with your brother,” Porthos said. He walked over and kissed the top of Athos’s head. “But it’s getting late. You should get some sleep, you’ve got an early flight tomorrow.”

            “You’re right,” Athos said. He tugged Porthos and then Aramis in for kisses before they walked out.

            “I should go then,” d’Artagnan said and pushed himself out of his spot.

            “You don’t have to,” Athos said.

            d’Artagnan turned and looked at Athos nervously. It felt tense and charged but with anticipation. “If you want me to… I can stay.”

            “Only if you’re comfortable,” Athos said seriously. d’Artagnan swallowed thickly and nodded.

            “Then I suppose I’m staying.” d’Artagnan grinned and he moved toward the door.

            “Where are you going?” Athos asked.

            “I need to get pajamas.”

Athos snorted and then waved his hand. “Just wear a pair of mine.” d’Artagnan nodded and he smiled down at his feet. Athos moved over to his dresser and opened a drawer. He nodded to it before he moved over to where his own pajamas were folded neatly. d’Artagnan grabbed a pair of Athos’s worn sweats. Athos watched as d’Artagnan shifted awkwardly, the pants held in his hands. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No,” d’Artagnan said and he shook his head before he set the sweats aside and stripped down to his boxer briefs. He felt Athos’s eyes on him and he felt his face color as he wiggled into the sweats. He glanced over to Athos who was watching him with a small smile. “Bed?”

“Yes,” Athos said and he pulled down the covers. He settled and made himself comfortable. d’Artagnan tentatively moved over and slid into bed beside him.

The few inches between them felt like a chasm, but d’Artagnan was too nervous to bridge the gap. Athos seemed to read the tension in d’Artagnan and so he could the other closer until d’Artagnan was tucked securely under his chin.

d’Artagnan smiled and he pressed a soft kiss to Athos’s neck. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. Do you want me to wake you in the morning when I leave? It’ll be quite early.”

d’Artagnan nodded. “I would, though I might just fall back asleep.”

“Deal.” Athos kissed his forehead and d’Artagnan relaxed, letting the warmth from Athos and the normal exhaustion of the day take him to sleep.

…..

            Athos slipped from bed, carefully extracting himself from d’Artagnan’s tangled limbs, and got dressed. He shouldered his bag and then moved over to kneel next to the bed where d’Artagnan was still in bed, asleep.

            Athos let himself take in the view before he quietly slipped his phone from his pocket and snapped a quick picture. He tucked his phone away and leaned in to kiss d’Artagnan softly to wake him up. When he pulled back, d’Artagnan made a soft noise, sighing as he brought himself into full wakefulness.

            “Athos,” d’Artagnan smiled sleepily and pressed forward to kiss at Athos’s cheeks and chin sloppily.

            “I’ve got to head out,” Athos said and kissed d’Artagnan again. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

            “See you in a few days,” d’Artagnan said with a tired smile. “Love you, Athos.”

            Athos’s eyes went wide and he took in what d’Artagnan said. Granted, he was half-asleep, now fully asleep again, when he’d said it, but still. To hear it made his heart hammer in his chest.

            He stood and made his way downstairs, a little bit in a daze. Treville was sipping on his coffee and feeding bacon to Enjolras when Athos stepped into the kitchen.

            “All ready then?” Treville asked and stood, moving to grab his travel mug and empty his coffee mug into it.

            “Yeah,” Athos said and shook himself. He gave Treville a wan smile before he grabbed his passport from where Treville had left it for him. He tucked it into his pocket and then he and Treville walked out to the car.

…..

            “Ollie!” Athos looked up and he nearly toppled over as Thomas threw himself into his brother’s arms.

            “Tommy,” Athos said and set his brother down. “It’s good to see you too.”

            “This can’t be Olivier.” Athos stiffened as he heard a feminine voice. He turned and blinked to see Catherine, an old family friend, walking towards him and smiling.

            “Catherine,” Athos said and he glanced at Thomas with a small frown. “What are you doing here?”

            “Thomas invited me along,” Catherine said. “He said you wouldn’t mind.”

            “I don’t,” Athos said flatly. “Though a little heads-up would have been nice, Tommy.”

            “You could always bring those two boyfriends of yours along,” Thomas said as they started toward the gate for their plane.

            “And expose them to you? Never.” Athos made a face and Thomas laughed brightly.

            “I’d like to meet them one day,” Thomas said. “It has been two years.”

            “Two years?” Catherine asked.

            “Two incredibly fulfilling years,” Athos confirmed. “And a new relationship.”

            “Three,” Thomas whistled. “Who’s the new addition?”

            “His name is d’Artagnan,” Athos said shyly. He always felt a little nervous talking about his relationships with Thomas. He wanted his brother to approve, but he also loved them and wouldn’t give them up. “He’s your age. I think you two would get on well.”

            “All I have to do is wait two years,” Thomas teased.

            “I didn’t know you dated men, Olivier,” Catherine said primly. Athos tensed at the sour note of disapproval in her voice.

            “I date people that I’m attracted to, it doesn’t matter to me what gender or sex they are,” Athos shrugged. “It just so happens that the three people I love are men.”

            “Do you have pictures of them for me?” Thomas asked. It was something that he always asked for and usually Athos denied him.

            Something made him pause in consideration. Maybe it was the length of time that he’d been with Aramis and Porthos without talking too much about them, or maybe he was feeling light with the sleepy revelation that d’Artagnan loved him. “I do.”

            Thomas grinned as Athos pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped in the code. He pulled up a few, appropriate, pictures that either Aramis had sent him or taken on his phone. “This is Aramis,” Athos said as they walked, Thomas keeping pace so he could see. Athos thumbed over a few until he found a picture from Christmas that had the three of them in it. “That’s Porthos there,” Athos said with a smile tugging at his lips.

            “And d’Artagnan?” Thomas asked and Athos bit his lip before he thumbed to the picture he’d taken this morning. The only one of d’Artagnan he had.

            “This is d’Artagnan.”

            Thomas whistled appreciatively. In the photo, the sheets were pooled around d’Artagnan’s legs, Athos’s sweatpants having slipped down his hips a little, and with no shirt. He was on his stomach with the tanned expanse of his back exposed and his face, only slightly covered by the pillow, turned toward the camera.

            “He’s handsome,” Thomas said and smiled. “All of them are.”

            “I think so,” Athos said and then tucked his phone away again as they stepped onto the plane.

            “I just hope you’re happy,” Thomas said. “Don’t you, Catherine?”

            “Of course,” she said with a tight smile. Athos just ducked into his seat and settled with his legs crossed.

            “You’ll have to tell me all about them,” Thomas said. “And then I’ll tell you a little secret of my own.” Thomas winked and Athos rolled his eyes at the familiar game. “Do we have a deal, Ollie?”

            “Alright. Deal.”

…..

            d’Artagnan stretched as he woke up for the second time. He vaguely remembered kissing Athos goodbye that morning but not really what was said or what he did beyond that. He pushed his bangs out of his face and smiled as he pushed himself up. It felt strangely warming to wake up in Athos’s bed, despite nothing having happened and Athos being in another country.

            He made his way downstairs and grabbed the carton of juice so he could have a drink. He grabbed a piece of bacon and knelt down to feed it to Enjolras as he took a swig of juice.

            “You’re gonna spoil him,” Porthos said and d’Artagnan jumped, nearly dropping the carton of juice. “Ugh,” Porthos muttered as he took in d’Artagnan drinking straight from the carton. “Now that’s disgusting. Get a glass.”

            “Says the man who drinks out of the carton at two in the morning,” Aramis quipped and shook his head.

            “All of you should drink from glasses,” Treville said and rolled his eyes, taking the carton from d’Artagnan’s hands and setting it on the table.

            “Sorry,” d’Artagnan muttered sheepishly. Treville nodded and set out three glasses and then waved them to where breakfast was on the table.

            They all three sat dutifully and ate their breakfast in relative silence. After a moment, Aramis wiped his hands on his napkin and looked at d’Artagnan seriously. “With Athos gone, I think it’s about time that you, Porthos, and I got to know each other better. We all love him dearly, and I think it’d be a good time.”

            d’Artagnan swallowed his mouthful of toast and nodded. “Sounds nice.” He and Aramis were pretty well acquainted what with having to share a room, but d’Artagnan didn’t know Porthos very well.

            “How about a walk in the park?” Porthos suggested. “Get some fresh air, some sunshine.”

            “Lovely,” Aramis said and finished his breakfast. He pushed away from the table and moved to wash up.

            “Seems great to me,” d’Artagnan said before shoving the rest of his piece of toast in his mouth. He was chewing when he walked over to rinse his plate.

            “Are those Athos’s pants?” Porthos asked. d’Artagnan choked as he swallowed his last bite of breakfast.

            d’Artagnan coughed for a moment before he swallowed finally and nodded, his eyes watering. “Yes,” he managed to get out. He took a breath and swallowed again to clear his throat. “Let me borrow them last night.”

            “They slept in Athos’s room,” Aramis said.

            Porthos just hummed thoughtfully as he finished up and rinsed off his plate.

            “I hope that wasn’t a problem,” d’Artagnan said.

            Porthos shook his head. “Not if Athos asked you to stay, no.”

            “It’s perfectly fine, d’Artagnan. Athos is your boyfriend too,” Aramis said diplomatically.

            d’Artagnan nodded and then headed upstairs. He needed a shower before he went out in public. He grabbed up clothes from his and Aramis’s room before he stepped into the bathroom. He started up the shower and as the water was warming his brushed his teeth.

            His shower was quick and he dressed just as quickly when he heard a knock on the door. “Just a minute,” d’Artagnan said and pulled his boxer briefs and jeans on. He opened the door and smiled at Aramis.

            “Mind if I come in and brush my teeth?” Aramis asked as he noted the way d’Artagnan’s hair was still dripping and his pants were undone.

            “It’s no problem,” d’Artagnan said and moved to grab his towel so he could dry his hair. He scrubbed the towel over his mop of hair and then hung it back up and grabbed his shirt. He shimmied into it as Aramis watched his reflection. He felt warm from more than the claustrophobic steam. He put on deodorant and smiled at Aramis before stepping out.

…..

            The walk was pleasant.

            They were all quiet until they found a shady place to sit. “Can we ask you something, d’Artagnan?” Porthos asked as he leaned back against the three that was shading them.

            “Of course,” d’Artagnan said and kept up braiding the pieces of grass that he’d pulled up from the ground.

            “Are you alright with the poly thing?” Porthos asked bluntly.

            “Poly thing?” d’Artagnan asked after a moment of confusion.

            “Polyamorous,” Aramis clarified. “Meaning Athos, or anyone really, loving and being in a relationship with more than one person.”

            d’Artagnan frowned for a moment. “I… really like Athos, and it’s very obvious he’s in love with you two. You steady him, make him happy. I’d never want to take that from him.”

            “And you? Would you date people other than Athos?” Aramis asked. Porthos frowned and gave him a look but Aramis ignored him.

            “If Athos and the person was comfortable with it, maybe.” d’Artagnan shifted uncomfortably. “Why?”

            “Mis is trying to gauge your reaction for you joining our relationship,” Porthos said and just shook his head. “Don’t beat around the bush, just talk to him.”

            d’Artagnan gaped for a moment and he dropped the grass in his hands. “Are you asking me to join you? To be in your relationship, you, Aramis, and Athos?” He felt heat crawling up his neck as he remembered the scene he’d nearly walked into before. He couldn’t help but imagine himself in the middle of that. He shuddered. “Maybe this conversation should wait until Athos comes back. He should be allowed to voice his opinion as well.”

            “He’s already told the two of us that it’d be alright with him, but he wanted to ease you into this,” Aramis said. “Being poly is work. Athos knows that better than anyone.”

            “What does that mean?” d’Artagnan asked.

            Aramis frowned and shook his head. “That’s not my story to tell. Perhaps Athos will tell you someday, but you need to hear it from him.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and he bit his lip.

            “I think you’re physically attractive,” d’Artagnan admitted. “And Aramis, I like you, but I don’t know either of you very well.”

            “That’s a fair point,” Porthos said.

            “Ask us anything you’d like to know,” Aramis said and moved so he was settled against Porthos’s side. “Of course, we reserve the right to not answer, but we’ll at least tell you why we won’t. That seem fair?” d’Artagnan nodded. “Porthos?”

            “If we can ask you questions as well,” Porthos said to d’Artagnan.

            “I’ll reserve the right not to answer,” d’Artagnan pointed out.

            “Deal. So, who wants to share first?” Aramis grinned.

…..

            “Come on, Ollie!” Thomas whined and tugged on Athos’s arm. Catherine had gone to some special spa or salon that she wanted to go to, so the boys were on their own. “I want to meet them. If they’re the loves of your life, and you have all but said they are, then I want to meet them.”

            “Tommy,” Athos started and shook his head, “can’t you just accept I’m not ready yet?”

            “To have your boyfriends meet your only brother?” Thomas frowned and Athos could tell he’d hurt his brother’s feelings.

            “To have my old life and my new life mix,” Athos said gently.

            Thomas opened his mouth and then shut it. “I understand that, Ollie, but things are different now. You’re in love again, something neither of us thought possible after those first months, that first year.” Thomas looped his arm through Athos’s. “I just want to meet the men that make you happy.”

            “And what about your love life? Hm?” Athos asked to divert the subject. “You’ve told me that you’ve been dating again as well. Met any suitable young men or women?”

            “I have, actually,” Thomas said and grinned.

            “Tell me,” Athos said and tugged on his brother’s arm.

            “Not until you agree to let me meet your beaus!” Thomas laughed and Athos scowled.

            “Fine,” Athos capitulated, “but not right after we get home. I’ll talk to them, see if they even want to meet you.”

            “Why wouldn’t they want to meet me?” Thomas asked and tossed his curls from his eyes. “I’m incredible.”

            “An incredible menace,” Athos muttered and ruffled his brother’s hair. “Now, I’ve agreed to let you meet my boys, now you have to spill about your mystery lover.”

            Thomas flushed and took a breath. “We’re not lovers, just dating. We’re taking things slow, her and I.”

            “So a woman,” Athos said with a small smile. Athos was glad that Thomas could trust women again, even if he wasn’t sure he could.

            “Yes, a woman.” Thomas nodded. “It’s actually… well it’s Catherine, Ollie.”

            Athos stopped walking and dropped his brother’s arm.

            “Catherine?”

            “Well, yes,” Thomas said and blushed as he fiddled with his sleeves. “She’s been a good friend to me, Ollie. After everything that happened with Anne-”

            “Don’t say her name, Thomas!” Athos snapped breathlessly. He always felt blindsided when someone brought her up.

            “Alright, Ollie,” Thomas said and held his hands up placatingly. “After everything that happened, Catherine was a comfort. We’d isolated ourselves so thoroughly after Maman and Papa died, and even more so while _she_ was in our lives, but Catherine reached out to me. She called me after she heard that you’d been taken from the house, told me she wanted to know if she could help.” Thomas pushed his hair from his eyes. “It was a hard time for the both of us, you know that. She was my only friend. Then one thing lead to another and I fell for her. I really like her, Ollie. I might even love her eventually.”

            Athos swallowed thickly and nodded. “I hope that she’ll make you happy, Tommy. I really do. But I don’t think… I don’t think she loves you like you love her.”

            Thomas nodded shakily and let out a breath. “I know, but maybe one day.”

            “Yes,” Athos said and the lie tasted bitter on his tongue. “Maybe one day.”

…..

            “Are you sure you want to do this?” Aramis asked for the fifth time since they’d gotten home from the park.

            “Yes, Aramis. I’m sure,” d’Artagnan laughed and rested his hand over Aramis’s gently. Aramis curled his fingers around d’Artagnan’s and squeezed them.

            “You don’t have to-”

            “Aramis!” d’Artagnan laughed and shook his head. “I want to.”

            “You two quite finished?” Porthos asked and glanced between them.

            “Yes,” they said in unison.

            Aramis held onto d’Artagnan’s hand tightly before tugging him closer. “You can always tell me to stop if you like,” Aramis said as he let go of d’Artagnan’s hand so he could slip them into d’Artagnan’s back pockets.

            “I know,” d’Artagnan said. He was eyeing Aramis’s mouth like a dying man might eye a glass of water. “I want to do this.”

            Aramis nodded before pulling d’Artagnan flush against him. The boy’s cheeks colored and he swallowed thickly as Aramis started to lean in. Aramis watched as d’Artagnan’s eyes fluttered shut, long lashes shading his cheeks. Aramis brushed his nose along d’Artagnan’s before brushing his mouth against the corner of d’Artagnan’s. He was teasing as he kept just a breath away from d’Artagnan, never truly kissing him.

            “Aramis,” d’Artagnan breathed, and Aramis smiled at the way d’Artagnan shook lightly, his fingers digging into the material of Aramis’s shirt.

            Aramis kissed him then and d’Artagnan jerked slightly in surprise before he relaxed into it. It was chaste and slow until d’Artagnan tugged insistently on Aramis’s shirt. Aramis felt a chuckle thrum through his chest before he gently began to coax d’Artagnan into a deeper kiss.

            He pulled back with a hum. “Not bad,” Aramis teased and d’Artagnan opened his eyes lazily to glare at him half-heartedly.

            “Only ‘not bad’?” Porthos asked casually.

            “Want to find out for yourself?” Aramis asked and slid his hands out of d’Artagnan’s pockets but kept his hands pressed against the younger’s back.

            “If d’Artagnan here doesn’t mind,” Porthos said and ducked his head.

            “Porthos, come here,” d’Artagnan said and he turned in Aramis’s grip.

            Porthos grinned at him slightly before he stepped into d’Artagnan’s reach. “Can always tell me to stop,” Porthos reminded as d’Artagnan got up a little on his toes.

            d’Artagnan just made an impatient noise so Porthos, grinning, ducked down to kiss him. Porthos gently cradled d’Artagnan’s face and his kiss felt gentler, but no less charged, as his kiss with Aramis. Porthos treated him like something fragile, while Aramis treated him like he had to be broken open so they could take fragments of each other to keep.

            Aramis grinned and just watched, his chest still pressed to d’Artagnan’s back.

            “I wish Athos could see this,” Aramis hummed.

            When the two separated Porthos grinned in a way that had Aramis grinning as well. “Who says he can’t?” Porthos asked. They both stared at each other for a moment.

            “Snapchat,” they both said in unison. d’Artagnan raised an eyebrow as Aramis pulled out his phone.

            “As long as it just goes to Athos,” d’Artagnan said, his brain suddenly catching up. “Nothing on your story. I mean it, Aramis.”

            “Alright, alright.” Aramis sighed dramatically. He handed his phone over to Porthos as he turned d’Artagnan toward him. “You sure you’re okay with this? We don’t have to send this to Athos.”

            d’Artagnan’s cheeks turned red. “No, if it’s Athos it’s alright with me. Just… no one else.”

            Aramis nodded. “I promise.” He pulled d’Artagnan in for a soft kiss and d’Artagnan easily melted into it, forgetting about the camera that Porthos had pointed at them. After a moment, Aramis turned d’Artagnan towards Porthos and they smoothly transitioned the phone, having already sent two short videos to Athos, to Aramis. He grinned as he captured a video and one particularly dirty picture. He’d just sent it to Athos and handed the phone back to Porthos.

            Aramis pulled d’Artagnan toward the bed and pushed him down, straddling him easily. d’Artagnan hadn’t thought anything of it until Aramis went to grab for his belt. d’Artagnan jumped and squeaked, “I’m a virgin!” He felt his face color and Porthos dropping the phone caught his attention.

            “Tell me that didn’t send!” d’Artagnan’s face was nearing an alarming shade of crimson as Aramis shifted off his lap. Porthos picked up the phone and sent d’Artagnan a sheepish smile that said it all. It’d been sent to Athos.

            “Oh my God!” d’Artagnan said and he felt the humiliation eating at him. He couldn’t believe he’d said that out loud and then had it sent via slightly sexy Snapchat to his boyfriend. d’Artagnan hated his life right about now. He just hoped that Athos wouldn’t check his Snapchat while he was on his vacation with Thomas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor d'Artagnan! Hope y'all liked it. Tell me what you thought in the comments!  
> -James


	13. Snapchat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude where Athos checks his Snapchats

Athos frowned as he saw the cluster of notifications on his phone.

“Give me a minute, Tommy. It’s the boys,” Athos said and Thomas nodded. He and Catherine went ahead into the café to get them a table. Athos opened up Snapchat and he bit his lip as he moved to open his messages from Aramis.

He was shocked, and pleasantly surprised, to see the first Snap was a video of Aramis and d’Artagnan. Athos felt his face go red. He tapped the screen to see another video. He shook his head slightly but kept his eyes on the two of them. He didn’t know what had happened in the short half-day he’d been gone, but he was appreciative of the view.

The next one was d’Artagnan and Porthos and Athos’s eyes widened. He smiled softly as he heard Aramis’s quiet murmur of ‘beautiful’. He tapped and the next was just a photo of Porthos and d’Artagnan. He screenshotted it and shook his head while silently praising Aramis’s photography skills.

The next one was Aramis and d’Artagnan again. They stumbled over to the bed and Athos’s eyes went wide again.

He was even more shocked when he heard what came out of d’Artagnan’s mouth.

A shrill, “I’m a virgin!”

He immediately turned the volume off of his phone as he realized people around him had heard the video. He ran his hand through his hair and tucked his phone into his pocket awkwardly.

He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t known that d’Artagnan was a virgin. He always seemed so confident in himself sexually, but perhaps, like many other things with d’Artagnan, it was false bravado. Athos swallowed thickly and walked inside the restaurant. He’d have to have a talk with the three of them when he got back.


	14. Communication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Communication is key

                “d’Artagnan it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Porthos said and leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. There was only silence as he waited for d’Artagnan to speak or open the door.

            “I’m not ashamed,” came the muffled reply after a long moment. “It’s just embarrassing.”

            Aramis frowned and Porthos shrugged. “d’Artagnan,” Aramis said and knocked on the door gently. “Can I come in?”

            The door opened and d’Artagnan peeked out at them awkwardly, his face still red. Aramis slipped inside and he glanced between d’Artagnan and Porthos. “Is it alright if Porthos comes in too?”

            d’Artagnan nodded and he chewed his lip while he resolutely refused to look at either of them. Porthos slipped inside and shut the door behind them. He leaned against the door and tried to keep his body language as open as possible. Aramis settled with his back to the wall and his shoulder brushing d’Artagnan’s.

            “Can I tell you something really personal, d’Artagnan?” Aramis asked and glanced at d’Artagnan out of the corner of his eye. “A regret of mine.”

            “Alright…” d’Artagnan said cautiously and finally lifted his head enough to look at Aramis through the fringe of his hair.

            “Aramis, you don’t have to,” Porthos said quietly. He knew this story very well.

            “I want to,” Aramis said and smiled at Porthos consolingly. He took a breath before he started. “I was twelve when I lost my virginity,” Aramis said flatly. “I lost my virginity to a stranger that was twice, more likely three, times my age and had paid my father to have sex with me.” d’Artagnan’s eyes were wide as he let that soak in. “My father convinced me that if I didn’t sell myself that my little sisters would starve, that he would kill my mother, he said anything to get me to say yes.” Aramis shrugged. “It’s not something I’m ashamed of, but I’m not proud of it either. I did what I had to do, and it’s just something that happened to me.” Aramis leaned into d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “It’s also something that, sometimes, I wish I could change. I was a child, and I didn’t really understand what was happening to me. I wish that I would have lost it to someone who I loved and who loved me. So, while there’s little to no value on whether or not you are a virgin, d’Artagnan, _please_ make sure you’re losing it for the right reasons. Because you love that person, even if it’s just for the moment, or for something other than you think you have to.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and he felt a little choked up as he hugged Aramis tightly. “I’m so sorry, Aramis.”

            “You’re not my father, and you didn’t take my virginity,” Aramis soothed and pressed a kiss to d’Artagnan’s cheek. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I wanted to tell you.”

            d’Artagnan just nodded and hugged Aramis tighter until Aramis tapped his back. The younger pulled back and Aramis cradled his face gently. “I promise I won’t be an idiot.”

            “Good,” Aramis said and kissed d’Artagnan softly. “Now, of course, you’ll still have to talk to Athos. I know he’ll want to discuss it to exhaustion before you two do anything together.” Aramis grinned and d’Artagnan huffed out a weak laugh.

…..

            The few days without Athos passed in a whirlwind of being sandwiched between Aramis and Porthos. They all woke up in a tangle of limbs when Treville came upstairs and knocked on Porthos’s door.

            “You lot want to come with me to pick Athos up from the airport?” Treville asked and crossed his arms with a fond smile.

            “Of course,” Aramis said. d’Artagnan stretched, a few bones popping much to Aramis’s disgust, before he too nodded. Porthos was still soundly asleep. “We’ll be down in a minute.”

            Treville nodded and shook his head fondly as he heard the boys rustling around. d’Artagnan was presumably getting out of bed so Aramis could wake Porthos up. He ran a hand through his hair. He was glad that they all got on so well, but he also dreaded having to try and keep four teenage boys in line. He made a note to make sure to buy more condoms for the boys’ bathroom.

…..

            d’Artagnan shifted awkwardly as they stood at the baggage claim. Athos had messaged them and told them that he would meet them there. d’Artagnan was eager to see him, but he was also nervous since the Snapchat Disaster™. And in d’Artagnan’s mind the trademark symbol was absolutely necessary.

            Porthos subtly slipped his hand into d’Artagnan’s and gently squeezed. d’Artagnan gave him a smile of gratitude and was about to thank him until Treville spoke up. “There he is.”

            d’Artagnan turned and he noticed an exhausted looking Athos, wearing sunglasses inside, coming toward them. He grinned brightly, his cheeks aching already. But there was suddenly a tension in Porthos, Aramis, and Treville.

            “Athos!” d’Artagnan waved and Athos gave him a weak smile. He slipped away from the others to hug Athos, who winced at impact, and when he pulled back he noticed how Athos was leaning into him for support. “You alright?” d’Artagnan frowned slightly.

            “Just tired,” Athos said and gave d’Artagnan a quick, placating kiss. d’Artagnan watched Athos carefully. He felt cool to the touch but his face was slightly flushed under his dark sunglasses.

            “Alright, if you’re sure.” d’Artagnan wrapped his arm around Athos’s waist and they walked together to where the others were. Aramis and Porthos both kissed him briefly and then pulled back like Athos had burned them.

            The light for the baggage lit up and bags started to come out. Treville, upon seeing Athos’s familiar bag, grabbed it, and nodded toward the doors. “Let’s go,” he muttered before they walked out.

            d’Artagnan frowned between the three of them and then glanced at Athos. Something was very off with Athos, but Athos being off was making Treville, Aramis and Porthos upset for whatever reason.

            When they reached the car, it was deathly quiet. Aramis kept sending concerned but slightly irritated looks at Athos, who was just leaning his forehead against the window of the car and seemed to be dozing off. Porthos kept his eyes forward, not making faces at them in the rearview like he usually did. Treville was stoic as usual, but his grip on the wheel was white-knuckled and tense.

            d’Artagnan slumped in his seat and covered Athos’s cool hand with his own.

            Athos slumped immediately into bed and fell fast asleep when they got home. d’Artagnan frowned at the strange behavior but settled Athos’s duffle down in the corner. He frowned at Athos, who’d finally rid himself of the sunglasses, as he slept.

            “Just leave him,” Aramis said gently and tugged on the back of d’Artagnan’s shirt. “When he wakes up again, he’ll find us.” d’Artagnan glanced at Athos one more time before he let Aramis guide him back into Porthos’s room.

            “Have I missed something?” d’Artagnan asked with a frown.

            “It’s not our story,” Porthos said and gave Aramis a sharp look when the other opened his mouth to protest. “Athos can explain if he likes when he wakes up.”

…..

            d’Artagnan was sitting on the couch watching TV when Athos shuffled downstairs and into the kitchen. He turned his head to watch as Treville cleared his throat.

            “Athos, a word,” Treville said and pointed toward a chair.

            “Of course,” Athos said and slumped into a chair.

            Treville was watching him with a disapproving frown. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Athos?”

            d’Artagnan frowned as Athos tensed. “I didn’t drink,” Athos growled out, suddenly defensive.

            “Then explain your behavior at the airport. The sunglasses inside, the flushed face, the unsteadiness.” Treville crossed his arms and his face was like thunder. d’Artagnan reflexively shrank in his seat despite this conversation having nothing to do with them. “If you were drunk, or hungover, then tell me what happened.”

            Athos’s jaw worked for a moment. “It’s nothing.”

            “Athos!” Treville scowled.

            “I wasn’t drinking. It was just… exhaustion.” Athos stood and his legs wobbled before they became steady. “If you don’t believe me, fine, but I would _never_ lie to you. Especially not about this.”

            With that Athos turned, noticed d’Artagnan, and then walked out the back door.

            Treville looked up and noticed d’Artagnan watching. “Go back to… whatever you were doing,” Treville grumbled and went after Athos.

            “Alright… now I know I’ve missed something,” d’Artagnan said to himself.

…..

            d’Artagnan hadn’t meant to walk in on Athos changing. It had just happened. He’d knocked and not gotten an answer so he’d poked his head in.

            He gaped as he saw Athos shirtless and with a wicked bad sunburn across his shoulders.

            “d’Artagnan!” Athos said and yanked his shirt back on. He almost looked sheepish at being caught. He pulled d’Artagnan inside and shut the door.

            “If you’re sunburnt why didn’t you just tell Treville that?” d’Artagnan frowned. “Why did he think you were drunk? Why would it matter?” d’Artagnan’s head span with a million questions.

            “It’s…” Athos sighed heavily and smoothed out d’Artagnan’s shirt from where it’d gotten wadded up when Athos had grabbed him. “It’s a long story. A long story that I’m not sure I want to talk about yet.”

            “Heat exhaustion,” d’Artagnan said. “That’s why you were acting so strangely.”

            “Yes, now keep your voice down.” Athos frowned. “I don’t want Aramis and Porthos finding out.”

            “You’d rather they think you were drunk at the airport than to know you got heat exhaustion?” d’Artagnan asked. That made no sense. Considering their reactions to the thought of Athos drinking, d’Artagnan would have thought sunburn was a much more placating revelation.

            “I can handle this, d’Artagnan.” Athos pressed a kiss to d’Artagnan’s cheek. “It’s nothing that I haven’t had to deal with before.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and then took the bottom of Athos’s shirt in hand. “I want to look at your sunburn, make sure it’s nothing too serious.” Athos blinked at him and then nodded. d’Artagnan gently pulled Athos’s shirt off and tossed it into the hamper in the corner. He walked around Athos so he could see his back. “Does it still sting?”

            “No.”

            “That’s good then,” d’Artagnan said and skimmed his hands over the irritated skin. Athos didn’t even flinch. “I’m sure it’ll clear up in a day or so.” d’Artagnan leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the back of Athos’s neck.

            “Speaking of clearing things up,” Athos said and turned so he was facing d’Artagnan. d’Artagnan tensed and bit his lip. He wasn’t sure he was quite ready to have this conversation. “Would you mind explaining the Snapchat I got?”

            “It was a mistake. You weren’t supposed to know,” d’Artagnan said. “None of you were.”

            “Why?” Athos frowned and he tugged d’Artagnan’s hand so they could both sit on Athos’s bed.

            “Because I was embarrassed,” d’Artagnan admitted. “You three are experienced and I’m… well I’ve got no idea what I’m doing, honestly.”

            “You’ve never… any of it?” Athos asked awkwardly. d’Artagnan flushed as he ducked his head.

            “No.”

            “Oh.”

            “Is that really all you have to say?” d’Artagnan asked, his head snapping up.

            “What would you like me to say?” Athos asked and ran a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t change anything, other than maybe I would want to do something a little more special when, or if, we have sex.”

            d’Artagnan wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want anything special.” He shook his head and then wrapped his arms around Athos’s waist. “I just want you, or Aramis, or Porthos, or all of you if I’m allowed. That’s all.”

            Athos laughed and leaned forward to press a kiss to d’Artagnan’s cheek. “We’ll just have to see what the other two think about it.”

…..

            “How did you lose your virginity?” Athos asked Porthos thoughtfully. Porthos nearly choked on his drink.

            “What?” Porthos asked.

            “How did you lose your virginity? I’ve never asked you,” Athos shrugged.

            “Uh,” Porthos chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I was sixteen.” Aramis lifted his head from where he’d been picking at his lunch. “I actually lost it to Aramis.”

            “You didn’t tell me you were a virgin!” Aramis hissed.

            “It wasn’t important to me.”

            “I would have done a little better than a quickie in the café bathroom!” Aramis’s face was red and Porthos ducked his head.

            “Well, that won’t do,” Athos hummed to himself and tapped his finger on the table impatiently.

            “What about you?” Aramis asked.

            “What?” Athos asked, having already lost himself inside his own thoughts.

            “How did you lose your virginity?” Aramis asked. “I’ve asked, but you never talk about it.”

            “It was a long time ago,” Athos shrugged. “It was nothing special.” That wasn’t completely true, but it was also something Athos didn’t want to think about let alone talk about.

            Aramis frowned but he didn’t say anything. “What’s this about, Athos?”

            “It’s about d’Artagnan,” Athos said. “What he said.”

            “What about it?” Porthos asked and frowned.

            “I just want it to be… better.” Athos shrugged and he leaned back in his chair. “So I was trying to come up with something.”

            Aramis smiled at that. “I’m sure between the three of us we can come up with something befitting of the deflowering of our lovely d’Artagnan.”

            It was then Constance had come over to sit with them. “Sometimes I wonder why I’m friends with you lot.” She shook her head and settled. “Why are you planning to ‘deflower’, and honestly, Aramis who even s _ays_ that anymore, d’Artagnan?” Aramis flipped Constance off and she just smiled at him.

            Athos opened his mouth to reply but that was also when d’Artagnan settled into his spot at their table. “What’re we talking about?” He asked and pushed his hair from his eyes.

            “Nothing,” Athos said calmly. Constance glanced between Athos, Aramis, and Porthos before turning to d’Artagnan with a placating smile and drawing him into a conversation to distract him.

…..

“I hope that I can trust you all to behave while I’m on this trip,” Treville said seriously. He’d called them all into the kitchen when he’d heard them come in. “It’s important.”

They all nodded in unison. “Of course, Treville,” Athos said and he tried not to wilt under Treville’s gaze. They still needed to talk about what had actually happened during his trip to see Thomas. They’d talk before he left.

            “Alright,” Treville said and rubbed his hands on his pants. “It won’t be long, but I expect best behavior.” He gave them all a stern look before he got up to start making the necessary calls. The boys all stood and headed upstairs to start on their homework.

            Aramis pulled Porthos and Athos aside once d’Artagnan was settled at his and Aramis’s shared desk. “During Treville’s trip. That’s when we’ll do it, if he’s up for it.”

            “What?” Athos asked, his brain not having caught up.

            “The deflowering,” Aramis grinned.

            Athos blinked and his mouth felt dry. “We should talk to him first.”

            “Of course,” Aramis said. Without any further prompting and without hesitation, he walked in and pressed a kiss to the side of d’Artagnan’s neck. The youngest of them merely tilted his head to give Aramis room.

            Athos and Porthos hesitated slightly before they stepped in the room, making sure to give d’Artagnan his space, and Athos shut the door.

            “We want to talk to you,” Aramis hummed into d’Artagnan’s skin before pulling away.

            “What’s up?” d’Artagnan asked as he rubbed at where Aramis’s stubble had scratched at his neck. When there was a beat of silence, he turned to face the three others in the room. “What?”

            “We want to talk about sex,” Aramis said bluntly and Porthos rolled his eyes.

            d’Artagnan balked for a moment and just blinked at them like he’d been startled. “Uh…” He turned red as no one spoke.

            “Aramis,” Athos sighed long-sufferingly. He moved to sit on the edge of Aramis’s bed, closer to d’Artagnan but still giving him his space. “We wanted to know if you still wanted to have sex… with us.” He wanted to kick himself for how ridiculous it sounded with the last bit tacked on.

            “Yes,” d’Artagnan breathed out and glanced between the three of them like he was waiting for them all to begin stripping right then and there.

            “Papa’s going to be gone for a few days,” Porthos said and crossed his arms. “I figure you’ll be more comfortable if he’s not in the house?” d’Artagnan nodded sheepishly. “Alright. If you want, sometime during the trip, we want to make love to you.”

            d’Artagnan’s breath caught in his chest.

            This was really happening.

            “I can-you mean it’s alright if I… all of you?” d’Artagnan asked in a string of broken sentences.

            “Maybe not all at once,” Aramis laughed brightly. “But if you want all of us there, that’s alright. If you just want one of us there, that’s fine too. If you choose one thing and then change your mind during, you can.” Aramis settled next to Athos on the bed. “We just want you to be comfortable.”

            d’Artagnan nodded and he smiled. “Yeah, I’d… I’d like that.” His smile dimmed for a moment. “I… I don’t know what I’m doing, so I’m not sure what I want.”

            “That’s alright,” Porthos soothed. “Most people don’t know what they want the first time anyway. If you want, and if you trust us, we can come up with a few things.”

            “I trust you,” d’Artagnan said without a second of hesitation.

            “Good,” Aramis said. He looked at d’Artagnan warily for a moment. “Is it going to be a problem that I-” Aramis ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “-that I don’t have… the right equipment?”

            “Aramis, of course not,” d’Artagnan said and his hands twitched. He felt like he needed to do something but he wasn’t sure what to do. “As long as you’re alright with me touching you. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me.”

            Aramis smiled softly and shook his head. “It’s alright, I made peace with body a long time ago.”

            d’Artagnan’s shoulders slumped in relief. He turned to Athos, who hadn’t said much. “Athos?”

            “I just want you, d’Artagnan. Anything you want, I’m happy with,” Athos said seriously.

            “Okay,” d’Artagnan said and he looked completely relaxed for the first time since this conversation had started.

            “Don’t worry about anything,” Aramis said. “Condoms, lube, anything else: we’ll take care of it. Unless there’s something specific?” d’Artagnan shook his head. “Then let us worry about the details.”

            “Okay,” d’Artagnan said again and made himself take a deep breath. He felt ready, and he genuinely loved each of them in his own way, but he was still a little nervous. He smiled as they stood and each gave him a brief kiss before leaving him to his homework.

            He could hardly focus on his history text as his whole body thrummed in anticipation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was inspired by my own experience (very recently) with heat exhaustion and by a comment from Hsg (who's been a super awesome reader since d'Artagnan Romances, which I would recommend y'all read!)  
> Comment and tell me what you thought/what you'd like to see next!  
> -James


	15. The Deflowering of Charles d'Artagnan

             d’Artagnan smiled brightly as he waved at Treville as the man pulled out of the drive

             Once Treville was out of sight they all started back into the house. d’Artagnan toed off his shoes and he felt himself tense. He made himself relax as the others drifted off to do their own things.

             The whole day d’Artagnan felt tense and jittery. He would jerk every time one of the boys would brush an absent-minded kiss to his head or neck when they walked past. They would just smile and d’Artagnan would let out a breathless laugh as he turned back to his book, or homework, or show.  
 He turned off Game of Thrones and stretched from his awkward sprawl on the couch. He frowned as he noticed one ankle was hooked over the back, his other leg touching the floor, and his arms over his head.

             “Sexy,” Aramis grinned and swatted d’Artagnan’s leg back down onto the couch. It fell with a muted thud and d’Artagnan snorted. “Porthos and I are making you dinner, well all of us are going to eat it, but it’s special for you.” Aramis leaned over the back of the couch to kiss d’Artagnan, who hummed into their lingering kiss.

             “Sounds nice,” he said once Aramis had pulled away.

              “It will be.” Aramis winked and went back into the kitchen. d’Artagnan grinned and after a moment his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and opened the message from Aramis. It was a picture of Aramis in his underwear. It was framed so that Aramis’s face wasn’t in the picture but it was focused on Aramis’s chest and the lack of anything except lace underwear and a hard-on.

              d’Artagnan swallowed thickly and locked his phone before dropping it like he’d been burned.

              His heart was hammering against his ribs as his phone went off again. He picked it up in shaky hands to see picture of Aramis completely naked with his underwear strategically dangling from his fingers to censor Aramis’s crotch.

              d’Artagnan lifted his hand to stifle a moan and then he turned to glare into the kitchen at Aramis. Aramis’s shoulders were shaking with laughter without looking at d’Artagnan.

_Stop teasing me. I don’t like it._

_If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning?_

              d’Artagnan tossed his phone aside after locking it and slumped in his seat. His pants were starting to feel a little tight but he wouldn’t give Aramis the satisfaction of riling him up any more than he already had.

…..

              “Dinner’s ready,” Athos said. He bent and kissed d’Artagnan soundly, biting the younger boy’s lip as he pulled away. “Come on.”

              d’Artagnan pushed himself to his feet, stretched, and then made his way into the dining room. He grinned when he took in the sight in front of him. The dining room lights had been dimmed so that the candles would glow in the dying light coming in through the window. There were red carnations in the vase in the middle of the table.

              Porthos rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Couldn’t afford roses…” he mumbled and d’Artagnan walked over and got on his toes to kiss Porthos.

              “Carnations are perfect,” he said quietly.

              “Ah, ah,” Aramis tsked as he came out of the kitchen to settle the food onto the table. “After dinner.” He winked and d’Artagnan felt warm at the thought. “Athos! Ready!”

              d’Artagnan frowned. He’d thought Athos was right behind him, but Athos stepped into the kitchen, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Smells amazing,” Athos said and brushed a kiss to Aramis’s cheek before sitting in his place

             “It does,” d’Artagnan agreed and settled next to Athos and across from Aramis.

             “We’ll just have to see how it tastes,” Aramis said with a smile. They all settled and passed their bowls to Aramis so he could dish out the soup that he’d made. “It’s ribollita.”

              d’Artagnan grinned and stirred his soup to cool it off. “ _Mia mamma_ used to make it all the time when I was a kid.”

              “You’ve never talked about your mother before,” Porthos said.

              “She died when I was eight,” d’Artagnan said with a shrug and took a bite of his soup. It made him think of the small farmhouse kitchen back in Gascony. His mother would sing “Le Mamme” while she cooked and danced around. It made him smile to himself as he took another bite. “But she would make this as often as she could, she said it reminded her of home.”

             “Where was she from?” Aramis asked.

             “Naples,” d’Artagnan said. “Though she was constantly in Florence to see her extended family.”

             “Have you ever been?” Athos asked and stirred his soup.

             d’Artagnan shook his head with a tight-lipped frown. “No. I’m not entirely sure I’d be welcomed by that side of my family.”

             “Why’s that?” Porthos asked.

             d’Artagnan flushed and took a bite of soup to give himself a moment. “It’s… uh, complicated.”

             “We’ve got time,” Aramis said before taking a bite of his food.

             “Well,” d’Artagnan said and settled his spoon down. He tucked his hands under his thighs before he continued. “My parents met when Mamma was eighteen and Papa was twenty-three. _Nonno_ instantly didn’t like Papa just because he was older than Mamma was, but _Nonna_ convinced him to leave them be. She figured they wouldn’t last.” d’Artagnan’s face felt warm as continued. “They dated for two years and then… well, I came along. Mamma found out she was pregnant, before she and Papa were married. _Nonno_ was furious. He lectured Mamma, even though she and Papa were engaged, and then told her to get out. It was a big fight between Mamma, Papa, some of Mamma’s siblings, _Nonno_ and _Nonna_. Mamma was three months pregnant with me when she and Papa got married.” d’Artagnan smiled sheepishly at the other three. “So… the family might not take well to me being there.”

             “That wasn’t right,” Aramis said with a frown down at his bowl.

             “I know, but it was what happened.” d’Artagnan shrugged and finished up his soup. “Mamma and Papa loved each other, that’s all I really cared about.” He stood to clear his bowl from the table when Athos’s hand on his elbow stopped him.

             “Where do you think you’re going?”

             “To clean up?”

             “I don’t think so,” Athos said and stood. He took d’Artagnan’s bowl from his hands and then scooped up his own empty bowl.

             “Athos-” d’Artagnan protested.

             “Tonight’s about you, d’Artagnan,” Athos said and leveled him with a cool look. “We can take care of it.”

             d’Artagnan felt warmth crawl through him all the way down to his toes as he slowly settled back into his chair. “Okay,” he said quietly.

             “Dessert’s in the fridge, but you should probably give it a minute more,” Aramis said as Porthos stood, taking his and Aramis’s dishes. 

             “Got it!” Athos called from in the kitchen.

             d’Artagnan was settled in his chair when he felt it.

             Someone’s foot brushing the inside of his ankle. 

             Aramis was the only one left at the table.

             d’Artagnan swallowed thickly and shifted his foot away. Maybe it had been an accident and Aramis had just been stretching his legs. Then he felt it again, but this time Aramis left his foot there. He looked at Aramis with a raised eyebrow but Aramis was flipping through his phone. d’Artagnan tried to relax but seeing Aramis on his phone made him think of the messages from earlier and a shudder ran down his spine. Aramis’s lips twitched upward just a fraction but he never looked up.

             d’Artagnan made himself relax and he gently bumped Aramis’s foot with his own. Aramis’s foot shifted up to press against d’Artagnan’s calf with a smirk at whatever he was doing. After a moment d’Artagnan’s phone went off in his pocket.

_Can’t wait to take you to bed._

             The message was accompanied by a gentle stroke up his leg to just around his knee and then back down.

_Why’s that?_

 d’Artagnan grinned at his phone and pressed into Aramis’s touch.

_You’re about to find out. ;)_

             Aramis grinned and tucked his phone back into his pocket as Porthos and Athos came back into the room, Porthos holding a plate of chocolate strawberries. d’Artagnan set his phone down and just smiled when Athos raised an eyebrow at him in silent question.

             “We have to confess, we had a little help. We weren’t sure what exactly to make, but Constance heard you say something about strawberries last week,” Athos said as he sat down, letting his arm rest on the back of d’Artagnan’s chair.

             “I’ll have to thank her the next time I see her,” d’Artagnan said. 

             Athos hummed and he leaned over to press a kiss to the side of d’Artagnan’s neck. d’Artagnan leaned into the touch and let his eyes flutter shut. Athos pulled back and tilted d’Artagnan’s chin so he could kiss the younger properly. d’Artagnan shifted in his chair so he could fist his hand in the shoulder of Athos’s shirt.

             They broke apart when Porthos cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should take this to the bedroom?” He raised an eyebrow and d’Artagnan’s stomach flipped. He glanced between the three of them and then realized that they were looking to him to decide. He nodded and stood up quickly, nearly stumbling over his chair in his excitement.

             They started to make their way upstairs but d’Artagnan, in his impatience, stopped Aramis and crowded the older boy against the railing so he could kiss him. It was hot and quick and d’Artagnan bit at Aramis’s lip when he pulled back. Aramis was grinning and pressing closer into d’Artagnan’s body before he ducked under d’Artagnan’s arm.

             “We won’t make it into bed if you keep that up.” d’Artagnan felt a jolt of arousal at the thought of fucking on the stairs. 

             Athos must have noticed because he laid a hand on the small of d’Artagnan’s back. “Another time, perhaps,” Athos murmured into d’Artagnan’s ear. He kissed d’Artagnan’s cheek and then gently pushed to get him walking up the stairs again. They went into Porthos’s room, since his bed was the biggest, and d’Artagnan almost wanted to laugh.

             “I thought you said you couldn’t afford roses,” d’Artagnan said with a grin. 

             On Porthos’s bed were rose petals. A lot of them.

             “I hate to break the illusion,” Athos said, “but they’re fake so, much cheaper.”

             “It’s… cheesy.” d’Artagnan turned to look at the three of them. “Thank you.”

             “Are you still sure about this?” Aramis asked and stepped forward to wrap his arms around d’Artagnan’s waist. “Because we can put on a movie or do anything else you like.”

             “I want this.” d’Artagnan leaned forward and kissed Aramis to reassure him that he was alright. And he did feel alright. Nervous, but in the best way.

             Aramis kissed back softly and pressed his body along d’Artagnan’s until they were flush against each other from chest to thigh. d’Artagnan was so caught up in the teasing brush of Aramis’s tongue that he nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt another pair of hands on his hips. He felt Porthos press along his back and then he was mouthing at d’Artagnan’s shoulder through his shirt. d’Artagnan felt warm pins and needles running along his skin and he wasn’t completely convinced it was a good feeling. 

             His slight unease seemed to kick up a little as Aramis and Porthos started to maneuver him towards the bed. He felt better when Porthos stepped away and settled on the edge of the bed, Aramis had pulled back so they could both get some air, and Athos was standing behind Aramis, watching them with a fond smile that made d’Artagnan feel hot all over.

             Aramis hooked his finger into d’Artagnan’s shirt collar and pulled him to the bed. d’Artagnan was balanced on his knees, Aramis in front of him, as Aramis pulled him further onto the bed and into a kiss. d’Artagnan’s stomach knotted itself up as he felt Porthos’s hands on his legs to help steady him, and Athos’s hands brushed over where he had his hands on Aramis’s hips.

             d’Artagnan felt a spike of panic as Aramis gently laid him back so his head was in Porthos’s lap. Aramis ran his hands down d’Artagnan’s side and shifted his legs so that they weren’t curled up underneath him, but it also left d’Artagnan feeling exposed as Aramis was settled between his legs. He squashed down the feeling as Aramis continued to kiss him. Losing himself in Aramis soothed him for a moment as he let himself relax into Aramis’s familiar warmth. But then Aramis’s hands were running back up from his knees and grasping the hem of his t-shirt.

             d’Artagnan felt like he couldn’t breathe.

             He hadn’t even realized he’d shoved Aramis away and sat bolt upright until he heard Athos asking Aramis if he was alright. d’Artagnan stared blankly as he watched Aramis, who was watching him with concern, rub at the back of his head. He and Athos must have collided when d’Artagnan shoved him away.

             “I’m sorry,” d’Artagnan apologized breathlessly. He clenched his hands in his jeans so they would stop shaking. “I don’t know why I did that,” he lied. It was only a small lie. He knew that he was panicking, but he didn’t want to admit to himself why.

             “It’s alright,” Porthos soothed from behind him. “Take a deep breath. Remember that you’re safe.”

             d’Artagnan nodded and he shakily took in a breath.

             “That’s it,” Aramis smiled. “Just breathe.”

             d’Artagnan nodded and when he met Athos’s eyes he felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

             “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice cracking.

             “If you’re not ready, d’Artagnan, we won’t be upset with you,” Athos said quietly.

             “I want to. I just…” d’Artagnan bit his lip. He didn’t want to hurt their feelings but this was what was bothering him. What he was afraid of. “When you’re all touching me-I can’t- I panic,” d’Artagnan admitted.

             “d’Artagnan, it’s alright,” Aramis smiled. “That’s normal. You’re just overwhelmed by all the new sensations. You’ve never done this with one person let alone three.”

             d’Artagnan ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m not sure I can do this, not with all of you at once.”

             “That’s alright,” Porthos said.

             d’Artagnan could feel the silent conversation that the three of them were having over his head. Porthos slipped off the bed and gently kissed d’Artagnan’s temple.

             “Athos will stay, if you still want this.”

             d’Artagnan looked at Aramis, who’d slid off the bed as well, and Porthos. “Are you sure? I don’t want-”

            “Of course,” Aramis assured and ran his finger through d’Artagnan’s hair to move it away from his eyes. “We understand.”

            “Another time,” Porthos said.

            “Goodnight,” Athos said to gently hurry them on. Porthos and Aramis both ducked to kiss Athos before waving to d’Artagnan and walking out. “Are you sure you want to do this? Because we don’t have to.”

            d’Artagnan took a breath and nodded. “I’ll stop you if I need to.”

            “I’m warning you, if you shove me like you did Aramis, I might fall off the bed,” Athos joked dryly. The tension that had been permeating the air disappeared.

            d’Artagnan was laughing as he said, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

            “Come here,” Athos said and held out his hand. There wasn’t much space between them, the bed didn’t truly allow for it, but d’Artagnan took Athos’s hand and let the other draw him in closer. “I’m going to kiss you.”

            d’Artagnan had just enough time to process and give Athos a jerky nod before Athos pulled him in for a kiss. It was chaste and short and completely nondemanding. It could have been any kiss from any other time. Athos took d’Artagnan’s hands and placed them on the hem of Athos’s shirt. He broke their kiss to watch d’Artagnan as he spoke. “You can take this off of me if you like.”

            d’Artagnan took fistfuls of the fabric, hitching it slightly up and exposing a strip of skin, but just held it. It took him a moment to finally muster up the courage to help Athos pull it off. He knew what Athos was doing and he appreciated it greatly.

           Athos took his shirt from d’Artagnan’s hands and tossed it into the floor. “You can touch too,” Athos reminded before tilting d’Artagnan’s chin so that he could kiss d’Artagnan again. d’Artagnan kept his hands on Athos’s shoulders at first but then slowly let his hands move so that his thumbs were tracing the line of Athos’s collarbones. His hands were hesitant and his touch light, reverent. He pulled back from their kiss so he could study the exposed skin in front of him. He smiled faintly as he realized that Athos’s sunburn hadn’t tanned at all, but was now a smattering of freckles covered Athos’s shoulders like constellations. 

          d’Artagnan was surprised when he felt Athos’s lips ghosting over his neck. “Is this okay?” Athos asked and d’Artagnan swallowed thickly at the sensation of Athos’s stubble rasping against the tender skin of his neck. It tickled and made his stomach warm in the best way. d’Artagnan just nodded and made a quiet noise in his throat as Athos’s kisses became more substantial. d’Artagnan let his fingers run through Athos’s hair and he gently pulled to get Athos to pull back. Athos went pliantly and d’Artagnan pulled him in for another kiss.

          d’Artagnan leaned tentatively into Athos’s kiss and feather-light touch. He wasn’t quite pressing into Athos’s hands, he was still too nervous for any sort of insistence, but it was clearly to urge the other on. He wanted a more substantial touch.

          Athos kept his hands framing d’Artagnan’s ribcage tenderly but his hands went from just skimming over d’Artagnan’s t-shirt to actually touching.

          “Take my shirt off, please,” d’Artagnan said quietly between kisses and he couldn’t believe how wrecked he sounded already.

          Athos nodded and he kissed d’Artagnan softly as he slipped his hands inside d’Artagnan’s shirt. They broke apart just long enough to get d’Artagnan’s shirt off and tossed to the side. Athos pulled back, just as d’Artagnan had, to look over the expanse of skin. d’Artagnan tried not to squirm, tried to tell himself that Athos had already seen him shirtless so it wasn’t as big as deal, but he still felt so exposed.

          When d’Artagnan ducked his head, his cheeks feeling hot and his skin a little too tight, Athos gently tipped his chin back up. “You’re beautiful, d’Artagnan.” The reassurance took away some of the embarrassment. d’Artagnan smiled and he shifted to get more comfortable. His jeans were starting to get a little tight, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to take them off yet. “Can I lay you back?” Athos asked and cradled d’Artagnan’s cheek. d’Artagnan felt warmth blooming in his stomach instead of a lance of panic. He nodded and Athos, shifting so that he was kneeling between d’Artagnan’s legs, laid d’Artagnan back against Porthos’s pillows.

          “You alright?” Athos asked and brushed kisses along d’Artagnan’s cheeks.

          “Yeah, I’m good.” d’Artagnan brought Athos in for another kiss but there was more heat to it, more of d’Artagnan’s earlier impatience. Athos traced patterns into d’Artagnan’s skin and d’Artagnan found himself making desperate noises into Athos’s mouth before arching into Athos’s touch. He pulled back, panting, and his eyes fell shut as Athos started to press biting kisses into his neck and shoulder. “Athos… _please_.”

          “Please what, d’Artagnan?” d’Artagnan could feel the smug smirk as Athos brushed his bottom lip over a stinging spot where he had bitten d’Artagnan.

          “More, please.” d’Artagnan’s voice came out small but he let his fingers skim down as close to Athos’s waistband as he could. Athos shuddered and his forehead pressed into d’Artagnan’s shoulder.

          “Sure?”

          “ _Yes_.”

          Athos pulled back to kiss d’Artagnan again as he unbuttoned his own jeans. d’Artagnan let his hands skim over any skin he could touch and finally Athos managed to wiggle out of his jeans. He had to pull away from their increasingly desperate kiss but d’Artagnan just used it as an opportunity to suck a mark into Athos’s neck. Athos hummed his approval as he kicked his jeans off.

          Athos let his nails scrape along d’Artagnan’s stomach lightly and d’Artagnan let out a loud moan and arched up into the touch. Athos filed that away for later as d’Artagnan squirmed. His face was screwed up in a combination of pleasure and pain. Pain that Athos was sure he knew the cause of.

         “You want these off?” Athos asked, letting his hands rest on the outside of d’Artagnan’s thighs, as he leaned in for another kiss.

         d’Artagnan pulled back and bit his lip. He wanted to get his jeans off for two reasons: one, they were tight and he wanted them to stop squeezing his dick, and two, he wanted to actually get them off because that meant he was one step closer to having sex with Athos which he really wanted.

        “d’Artagnan,” Athos said softly and let his fingers skim over d’Artagnan’s legs. The touch brought d’Artagnan back into the moment. 

         “Yes,” d’Artagnan said. “Yes, I want them off.”

         “Alright. Tell me to stop if you want,” Athos said.

         d’Artagnan nodded and his breathing hitched as Athos’s hands brushed against his stomach. His muscles jumped under Athos’s touch as the older boy let his hands trail down to the button of his jeans. Athos’s fingers teased at d’Artagnan’s waistband before he finally relented and opened up d’Artagnan’s jeans.

         Athos sucked in a breath and looked up from where d’Artagnan’s jeans were hanging open to see d’Artagnan smirking at him.

         d’Artagnan wasn’t wearing any boxers. He wasn’t wearing any anything under his jeans.

         Athos felt like his heart was going to implode… or maybe that was his brain.

        “Surprise,” d’Artagnan said with a coy grin and Athos surged forward to kiss him senseless. d’Artagnan moaned into the kiss and Athos used it as an opportunity to turn the kiss filthy. Instead of a kiss it was a clash of teeth and tongue that left both of them breathless and shaking. “Boxers,” d’Artagnan panted and he pushed himself up onto his elbows, making Athos have to sit back on his legs. It took a moment for Athos’s brain to catch up and he shifted so he could wiggle out of his boxers as per d’Artagnan’s request.

        He knew it was going to be a vulnerable moment for him. Usually he was the last to get undressed, but d’Artagnan needed this. He needed the comfort of the slight advantage that still being partially clothed provided, and Athos understood that. He respected it.

        So there he sat, completely naked, in front of d’Artagnan as the other boy just gaped in silence, his pants hanging open to tease at the idea that d’Artagnan had nothing else on underneath.

        “ _Athos_ ,” d’Artagnan choked out, sounding like he’d been punched.

        “d’Artagnan,” Athos said back calmly despite the way his heart was hammering against his ribcage. 

        “I want… I want you. So badly,” d’Artagnan admitted freely but with a pained expression. “Please. I want… I _want_ -”

        “I know,” Athos soothed and reached out to pull d’Artagnan closer. d’Artagnan let out a shaky breath and let his hands trail over Athos’s narrow hips. His fingers lingered on Athos’s thighs, making Athos’s eyes flutter shut, before he pulled back completely. Athos opened his eyes and watched as d’Artagnan, with only a small glimmer of trepidation, shimmied out of his jeans.

        d’Artagnan settled so they were facing each other, both kneeling on the bed, and felt the blush on his cheeks spread down his neck and stain his chest. He could feel Athos’s gaze and it made him shiver. He was completely exposed and vulnerable with Athos, and his previous nerves were quieting down.

        “God….” Athos trailed off and he pulled d’Artagnan in for a kiss that ended up, somehow, with Athos nestled perfectly between d’Artagnan’s thighs. d’Artagnan tried to arch up to get some sort of friction or relief, but Athos’s hand on his hip was surprisingly strong and kept him from pushing up.

        “Athos… please, I want… I want you in-” d’Artagnan bit his lip. He didn’t want to say it out loud but he could tell by the look in Athos’s eye that his lover had gotten the gist of it.

        “I don’t have to be inside you to make you feel good.”

        The thought of either made a shudder run down d’Artagnan’s whole frame, a faint tremor left in its wake.

        “I’ve got you,” Athos murmured as he trailed kisses down d’Artagnan’s chest. Some were soft and gentle and others were biting and would no doubt leave marks. d’Artagnan lifted a hand to press to the back of his mouth to muffle the loud moans that were falling past his lips as Athos bit at the jut of his hipbones.

        “Athos!” d’Artagnan grit out impatiently through his teeth.

        Athos merely hummed in response and took his time kissing a path over to where d’Artagnan wanted his attention.

        d’Artagnan let out a string of every curse he knew, in French, English, and Italian, as Athos’s mouth closed around his cock.

       The first coherent thought that d’Artagnan had was that this was warmer than he’d expected. After a small hum sent his brain reeling again and when his hips had finally stopped struggling against Athos’s gentle but firm grasp, he had his second thought. This must have been what it was like for Aramis that time that d’Artagnan had practically walked in on the three of them. A moan fell from his lips as the image mixed with the sensation of Athos’s mouth around him. His hips jerked up just a fraction in Athos’s hands. He let his hand fall to Athos’s head and tangle in his lover’s mussed hair.

        Athos must have taken it as encouragement because everything he did next sent d’Artagnan’s brain straight to white with starbursts behind his eyelids. When had he closed his eyes?

        A choked mutter of incoherent sounds mixed with Athos’s name and a few mindless pleas was the only thing that filled the silence of the room. It seemed like hardly any time passed before d’Artagnan’s orgasm was building quickly.

       “Athos… Athos, I’m gonna-” d’Artagnan let out a choked half-moan, half-sob as he tugged gently on Athos’s hair.

        Athos simply hummed to let d’Artagnan known that he had heard but he didn’t pull away like d’Artagnan had expected. The vibrations coupled with the sensations and the sight of Athos between his legs was what finally sent d’Artagnan over the edge.

        He heard a groan that he realized was coming from him but after a moment he was just holding onto Athos and rocking his hips the minute amount that he could. He settled after a moment and blinked away the white spots from his vision. His breathing was ragged, his chest was heaving and covered in a light sheen of sweat, his throat felt slightly raw, and his thighs felt like they were made of jelly. But it all felt so good.

       “Athos,” d’Artagnan hummed contentedly and after a second Athos appeared in his line of sight. “C’mere.” He tugged Athos into a sloppy kiss. d’Artagnan could taste the tang of himself on Athos’s lips and tongue and it made him shudder.

       “How do you feel?” Athos asked when they parted. He brushed soft kisses against d’Artagnan cheeks and traced the bridge of d’Artagnan’s nose with his.

       “Tired. And warm. Soft.” d’Artagnan was sure he was making sense but Athos’s warm chuckle and nod settled him.

       “Usually is that way the first couple of times. You’ll build stamina, in time.” Athos pressed another kiss to d’Artagnan’s mouth. “If you’re tired, get some sleep.”

       “What ‘bout you?” d’Artagnan asked and tried to make his body cooperate. He wanted to give Athos the same kind of pleasure that Athos had given him, but his limbs were too clumsy to comply.

        “Aramis and Porthos will take care of me if you’re too tired,” Athos assured. “I’ll be alright.”

        d’Artagnan wanted to protest but the only thing that came out was a soft whine. His eyes felt too heavy and despite him wanting to get Athos off, he was exhausted. His body was practically dragging him off to sleep as he slurredly protested that he was alright.

       “Go to sleep, d’Artagnan. I’ll be here in the morning.” Athos’s voice was wobbly and d’Artagnan knew that he wasn’t going to be able to stay awake. He just needed to get one thing out first.

       “I love you, ‘thos,” d’Artagnan murmured with soft smile.

       “I love you too.” Was the last thing that d’Artagnan heard before he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long! It's been a busy week or so and I wanted it to be perfect!  
> Comment and tell me what y'all thought! Hope you enjoyed!  
> -James


	16. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys talk after everything that happened in the last chapter.

d’Artagnan woke up to broken sunbeams shining through the slats in Porthos’s shades. They must have forgotten to draw the curtains last night after…   
d’Artagnan flushed as he glanced down and realized he was still naked from last night. It quickly turned into a grin as he noticed the two arms thrown around him. One was draped over his chest, the other draped lower so the person’s palm rested on his hip. Aramis’s arm was the one draped over his chest, so his fingers could brush Porthos’s where he had his arm curled around Athos’s chest. Athos’s was the one protectively on his hip.  
He wanted to relax into the bed but he realized he was very thirsty. He bit his lip and then wiggled a little to see if the other three would wake up. They didn’t. d’Artagnan gently brushed Athos’s hand from his hip and wiggled out from under Aramis’s arm. He slid out of bed without disturbing Aramis too much. The other just rolled onto his stomach, into the spot d’Artagnan had been in, and snuffled a little in his sleep. d’Artagnan grinned as he picked up Porthos’s shirt and pulled it on. It was the only one long enough to cover his nudity so he could slip out of the bedroom and down into the kitchen.  
He padded down into the kitchen and smiled at Enjolras who was staring at the door forlornly. “I’m sorry. We forgot about you, didn’t we?” d’Artagnan let the dog out and then put food out for him for when he came back inside. He was filling a glass with water when he heard feet on the stairs. He was drinking when arms wrapped around him from behind.   
“Morning, Athos,” d’Artagnan sighed and he finished up his water before leaning back into Athos’s chest.  
Athos just grunted as response and d’Artagnan turned in his grip so he could face Athos. The other still looked half asleep but he was slowly beginning to wake up. “You left,” Athos muttered, his voice rough from sleep and use, after a moment.  
“I needed a drink. Sore throat and all that,” d’Artagnan said with a grin. Athos’s eyes went hot and d’Artagnan smiled as Athos pressed him back against the counter.  
“You think your throat’s sore?” Athos asked and nipped at d’Artagnan’s bottom lip. “You didn’t even suck any di-”  
“Athos!” Aramis admonished tiredly as he slipped into the kitchen to grab a drink as well. “Language like that is for the bedroom, not the kitchen… where people eat.”  
“As if you haven’t had worse in your mouth,” Athos rolled his eyes irritably and d’Artagnan wanted to laugh at this much more open and snarky version of Athos.  
Aramis nearly choked on his water as his cheeks turned red. “Not the point.”  
“Boys, boys,” d’Artagnan placated. “You’re both pretty.” Athos glared at him sleepily while Aramis just flicked his hair over his shoulder with a wink.  
“Back to bed,” Athos grumbled and slipped his hand into d’Artagnan’s to pull him back upstairs so they could head to bed.  
“Enjolras!” d’Artagnan shouted as Athos dragged him upstairs.  
“I’ll let him back in!” Aramis assured and d’Artagnan laughed as he was pulled back into Porthos’s room.   
Athos pressed d’Artagnan up against the door after closing it and d’Artagnan laughed as Athos buried his face in d’Artagnan’s neck. “Bed?” d’Artagnan offered and gently walked them back toward the bed so they could tangle up together. Athos seemed content as he tucked himself under d’Artagnan’s chin. d’Artagnan traced up and down Athos’s spine as he waited for Aramis to come back to bed. It wasn’t long before Aramis moved to settle on d’Artagnan’s other side. d’Artagnan shifted so he could smile at Aramis and admire the way he looked sprawled out in the hazy morning sunshine.  
d’Artagnan leaned into Aramis and brushed a kiss to his jaw softly. “Your aim is terrible,” Aramis joked. “You missed.” He tilted d’Artagnan’s face up so he could kiss d’Artagnan properly. d’Artagnan shifted so he was propped up above Aramis as they kissed lazily and unhurriedly. d’Artagnan could hear shuffling from his other side and then he pulled back to glance that way. Porthos had woken up and was stretching.  
“Mornin’,” Porthos mumbled and settled with his arms over his head. “How’d everyone sleep?”  
“Like a baby,” d’Artagnan said and pressed a smacking final kiss to Aramis’s cheek before flopping back onto his back. Athos curled back close to d’Artagnan and d’Artagnan hummed his approval.  
“Last night was good,” Aramis said and pushed his hair from his eyes. “Pity that d’Artagnan couldn’t stay awake, but we work with what we have.” It was light and teasing though d’Artagnan’s cheeks felt hot.  
“Leave him alone,” Athos mumbled sleepily into d’Artagnan’s shoulder.  
“You’re no fun when you’re tired,” Aramis teased and leaned over d’Artagnan’s chest to press a light kiss to Athos’s lips. Athos merely grumbled and settled again. “I can go get started on breakfast,” Aramis suggested. “Anyone opposed to breakfast in bed?”  
No one spoke up so Aramis, giving them all quick pecks, headed off to go back downstairs.  
…..  
Athos seemed to revive after a cup of Aramis’s coffee. He set it aside and took a breath. They were mostly finishing up so he needed to get this off his chest. “So, you all know I went on my annual trip with Thomas recently.” Athos wiped his hands nervously on his pants, that were actually Aramis’s but who was keeping track honestly? “And we were talking…” Athos decided to just say it, rip it off like a band-aid. “He wants to meet you. All of you.”  
Aramis and Porthos blinked at each other owlishly while d’Artagnan just grinned.  
“You’ve never talked about us meeting Thomas before,” Porthos said carefully.  
Athos rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “We usually don’t talk about these things. At least not extensively. I… I wanted for so long to keep the two parts of my life separate, but he’s my little brother and he wants to meet you.” Athos shrugged. “I think it’s time, don’t you?”  
“Are you sure?” Aramis asked. “Just because it’s what Thomas wants doesn’t mean you have to if you’re not ready.” He covered Athos’s hand with his own.  
Athos shook his head. “I think it will be a good thing.”  
d’Artagnan looked between them a little confused. He knew there were things about Athos, Aramis and Porthos that he didn’t know, but this had to be something big for Aramis and Porthos to be trying to give Athos ways out.  
“I don’t understand,” d’Artagnan said and he bit his lip. He wasn’t sure if maybe he was overstepping a line, but he needed to at least ask. “Have I missed something?”  
Athos tensed and d’Artagnan swallowed thickly. He definitely touched a nerve.  
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, or if you’re not ready,” d’Artagnan said. Athos, Aramis and Porthos had been patient with him last night, and now it was his turn to return the favor.  
“Athos?” Aramis asked after a long, tense pause.  
“It’s alright,” Athos said and he pulled away from where Aramis had been touching him. “I…” Athos took a breath and closed his eyes. “I was- I am an alcoholic, d’Artagnan.” He opened his eyes and watched d’Artagnan’s face carefully. “After my parents died it was just Thomas and I. We were young and stupid and had more money than sense and no supervision.” Athos shrugged. “Then… there was a girl, and I made terrible decisions because she told me to.” Athos shuddered but kept going. “When she was gone I couldn’t cope, that’s how dependent I’d become on her and the alcohol. I was a mess.” Athos ducked his head and fiddled with his sleeve so he didn’t have to see the horror in d’Artagnan’s face. “Finally, Thomas called someone to get me help and I ended up in rehab for a little while before I came to live with Treville.”  
“Athos…” d’Artagnan didn’t know what to say. Though, it did explain a lot. “I… I didn’t know.”  
“Of course you didn’t,” Athos said and he went to reach for d’Artagnan but pulled his hand back. “I didn’t tell you because I… I wasn’t sure I wanted you to know.”  
“Is us meeting Thomas what you really want?” d’Artagnan asked and shifted so that their legs were brushing.  
“Yes,” Athos said in a rush of breath.   
“Then we’ll go, and if you change your mind that’s okay too.” Porthos settled a hand on Athos’s shoulder and swiped his thumb over the freckled skin.   
…..  
Aramis grinned as he watched the boys wrestling around in nothing but their underwear and, in d’Artagnan’s case, a t-shirt. Porthos had d’Artagnan’s arms pinned and Athos was sitting on the younger boy’s legs, his hands hovering over d’Artagnan’s unprotected, and extremely ticklish, sides.   
“Athos, no,” d’Artagnan said and he tried to wiggle out of Porthos’s and Athos’s reach. “Please.” His voice cracked and then it turned into a shriek of laughter as Athos tickled him. d’Artagnan thrashed around, trying to get away from Athos’s hands. “Stoooooop!” He laughed and tears welled up as his chest heaved. Athos grinned and let d’Artagnan catch his breath before he leaned down to kiss him. d’Artagnan pushed up into the kiss and hummed contentedly.  
Aramis moved over closer to them and tapped on Athos’s shoulder. “May I cut in?” Aramis asked and Athos just grinned and shifted so that Aramis could take his place. Aramis leaned over d’Artagnan, who’s brown eyes were wide and guileless, and brushed his lips against d’Artagnan’s jaw teasingly.  
d’Artagnan squirmed and he tried to press closer into Aramis’s fleeting touches. Aramis pulled back and just trailed his fingers along the soft fabric of d’Artagnan’s worn t-shirt. “Perhaps we should move this to the bedroom?” d’Artagnan asked, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.   
…..  
d’Artagnan grinned as Aramis pulled in for a bruising kiss the moment that they were in Porthos’s room. His muffled laughter soon turned to gasps as Aramis’s hand expertly found all of d’Artagnan’s sensitive spots.  
d’Artagnan pulled back and he let his hands bunch in the fabric covering Aramis’s thighs. “Take them off?” d’Artagnan asked breathlessly.  
“You sure?” Aramis asked. d’Artagnan just nodded eagerly. “Your wish is my command.” Aramis shifted away so he could showily strip off his sweats. d’Artagnan thank whoever was listening that Aramis wasn’t wearing underwear.  
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” d’Artagnan said and let his hands trace over the warm skin of Aramis’s chest, his fingers catching on the thin scars. Aramis let out a breathy sigh and shut his eyes.  
“Good thing we do,” Porthos said and folded his arms with a wolfish grin. He turned his gaze to Aramis. “What do you want Aramis? Well, what do you want first?” Porthos shot d’Artagnan a wink and d’Artagnan grinned even though his face felt like it was on fire. “Do you want his mouth like you usually do? Or maybe his fingers?” d’Artagnan and Aramis both shuddered at Porthos’s words.  
“Mouth,” Aramis said as he opened his eyes to look at Porthos.  
“Athos,” Porthos nodded and d’Artagnan glanced behind him to where Athos was leaning against the door. “I’ll leave him to your tutelage.” Aramis bit his lip in obvious anticipation.  
“Athos?”  
“I’m fairly good at this,” Athos said and shifted so his shoulder brushed d’Artagnan’s.  
“Bless him,” Porthos muttered. “He’s so modest. He’s the best at this.”  
Athos flushed but he just waved Porthos off. “If I’m to instruct d’Artagnan, I need quiet. He needs to focus.” Athos nodded toward the headboard of the bed. “Aramis, get comfortable.” Aramis moved over and settled with his back against the headboard. Athos nodded and then they moved to kneel on the bed in front of Aramis. Athos set his chin on d’Artagnan’s shoulder with a small smile. “You ready? I warn you this will take patience.” Athos pressed his lips to d’Artagnan’s neck. d’Artagnan nodded determinedly. “Good.  
The thing to keep in mind with Aramis is that while enthusiasm is wonderful and flattering, it’s not everything. It doesn’t make up for technique. With Aramis, you need to ease into it,” Athos said quietly as he brushed feather-light kisses to d’Artagnan’s neck and shoulder.  
“What should I do?” d’Artagnan asked and he shifted, restlessly straining against his own impulses.   
“Kiss him,” Athos said in a bored drawl that sent sparks into d’Artagnan’s stomach.  
d’Artagnan surged forward and he kissed Aramis hot and open mouthed. He whimpered into Aramis’s mouth as Aramis’s hands slipped under his t-shirt to rake his nails down d’Artagnan’s stomach.  
d’Artagnan pulled away to press biting kisses along Aramis’s neck and then down his chest. He paid special attention to the scars when he heard Aramis suck in a shaky gasp when he brushed his lips over them.  
“I see you learn quickly,” Athos hummed, a hint of pride in his voice. Aramis nodded with a breathless laugh that turned into a shaky moan.  
“d’Artagnan,” Aramis said and shifted restlessly.  
“Touch works as well, teasing works wonders,” Athos said in d’Artagnan’s ear. d’Artagnan continued to kiss across Aramis’s chest and neck as his fingers skimmed over the skin of Aramis’s thighs.  
d’Artagnan teased Aramis until the other’s thighs were shaking and he could feel a slight dampness on the skin of Aramis’s thighs. “Like that?” d’Artagnan asked and he wasn’t sure whether he was asking Aramis or Athos.  
Aramis just let out a shaky moan as he nodded. Athos chuckled and pressed a kiss to d’Artagnan’s cheek. “You’re a quick study.”  
d’Artagnan hummed and he hesitated. He wasn’t sure how or where to touch so he let his nails bluntly trace the inside and then outside of Aramis’s legs.  
“Now that he’s all riled up,” Athos said quietly just so that d’Artagnan was able to hear, “you can actually start.”  
“Help me?” d’Artagnan just as quietly.   
“Of course,” Athos said sweetly and kissed d’Artagnan before turning his attention back to the squirming Aramis.  
…..  
“How’d I do?” d’Artagnan asked smugly.  
Aramis swatted at d’Artagnan’s chest weakly and then just left his hand there.  
“Well enough,” Athos said seriously.   
“Always so sparing with your praise,” Porthos tsked with a soft smile as he traced his fingers over Aramis’s chest.  
“He’ll get praise when he’s earned it,” Athos said simply. He leaned over to d’Artagnan to press a warm kiss to the boy’s jaw.   
“Then I’ll have to work harder to earn it,” d’Artagnan said. He moved to press a proper kiss to Athos’s mouth, running his fingers through Athos’s hair and tightening his grip like he knew Athos liked.  
Athos pulled back and shook his head, untangling d’Artagnan’s fingers from his hair. “Another time.” He stretched and moved to get out of bed. “I need a shower, and then I need to call Thomas.”  
d’Artagnan nodded and flopped back against the bed, letting his hand rest on Aramis’s chest again. “Alright.”  
“You sure?” Porthos asked again. Athos gave them a small smile.  
“I am.” Athos grabbed up a pair of underwear, d’Artagnan’s, and slipped them on. “I’ll tell you how it goes.”  
…..  
d’Artagnan smiled as he lazed around on the couch, his homework on his lap. He jotted down the answer to what he was working on before glancing up to see Athos coming back inside. “How’d it go?”  
“Good,” Athos said and shed his coat. “Thomas is excited.”  
“And are you?” Aramis asked, poking his head around the corner.  
“I’m anxious, but I’m glad it’s finally happening,” Athos said and let his shoulders slump a little.  
“When are we gonna meet up?” Porthos asked as he settled on the couch next to d’Artagnan, his own reading and drink in hand.   
“In a week, once Thomas’s break starts. He gets off earlier than we do, but…” Athos trailed off and then he shrugged.  
“It’ll be fun,” Aramis said easily. “I can’t wait.”  
The rest of the day passed in relative ease and silence as they all worked on homework. When it came time to get some sleep, they all wandered off to their respective beds. d’Artagnan smiled into his pillow as he finally settled. Everything seemed good for all of them, and it left him feeling warm and content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a new chapter us up! So sorry that this has taken so long. Things have been super crazy and I just... wowie it's been a time! And I'll be headed back to uni soon so fair warning: things may take a little longer (not as long as this I hope) to update until I hit my stride again.  
> -James


	17. Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's trouble for all the boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some homophobic slurs and some bullying/blood

 Constance couldn’t believe the messes she got herself into. Well, that’s not true. She could because of who she was friends with. She shifted her hold on Athos, who was slumped against her side, leaning heavily into her support, and limping along toward Constance’s brother’s car. Constance flicked her hair away from her eyes and tried not to grimace at the blood that was now staining her blouse. How had she gotten into this again?  
 Wait.  
 Constance took a deep breath; she needed to go back figure out how exactly she’d gotten here. She could pinpoint exactly when it’d started.  
 It’d all started a few days ago.  
 It was Monday and Constance loathed Mondays. Her brain never wanted to wake up, her curls always seemed to fall flat, and her friends were much too chipper. (Except Athos usually, but he apparently decided that he was going to conspire with Aramis, d’Artagnan, and Porthos to be completely intolerable.)  
 d’Artagnan had been particularly getting on her nerves with the way his stupidly charming, lopsided grin never seemed to waver. He was walking with a sort of confidence that Constance couldn’t place her finger on. When they’d went to lunch, the only time during school she really sat down with him and got to stare unabashedly, she finally broke down.  
 “What’s got you in such a good mood. It’s Monday.” She wrinkled her nose in disdain as she took a drink of water.  
 d’Artagnan glanced around and then leaned back in his chair to make sure the others weren’t coming. “Well, if you must know,” he teased and then leaned back in, “I got laid.”  
 Constance snorted. “That’s all?”  
 “What do you mean ‘that’s all’?” d’Artagnan asked. Constance just raised an eyebrow at him. “It wasn’t just ‘that’s all’.” He sniffed.  
 “And why’s that?” Constance asked.  
 “Well,” d’Artagnan squirmed and then glanced around again, his ears turning red. “It was special.” He was mumbling and fiddling with the cuff of his uniform shirt.  
 “You mean you were a virgin,” Constance said casually before taking a bite of her sandwich.  
 “Hey!” d’Artagnan scowled and then shook his head. “Yes, I was.” Then his annoyingly, and precious, dopey grin came back. “But not anymore.”  
 “Obviously,” Constance laughed and shook her head. “You’re such a sap.”  
 “Why’s d’Artagnan a sap?” Porthos asked as he settled into the chair beside Constance.  
 “He’s waxing poetry about how he got laid.”  
 “I was not!” d’Artagnan protested and his face turned red as Athos, smirking, sat beside him with Aramis dropping down on d’Artagnan’s other side.  
 “It’s flattering,” Aramis said and perched his chin on d’Artagnan’s shoulder. “It’s good to know we did our job.” He kissed d’Artagnan’s cheek sweetly.  
 Constance smiled but it soon turned into a scowl as Marcheaux and his friend scoffed and made disgusted faces at each other. “Is there a problem, boys?” Constance asked sweetly.  
 Marcheaux looked at her nervously. Then his friend, Lucien Grimaud if she remembered correctly, answered. “Your friends should keep their… tendencies to themselves.”  
 d’Artagnan tensed and he immediately turned to glare at Marcheaux. “Didn’t you learn your lesson last time?”  
 “d’Artagnan,” Athos said lowly as a warning for him to watch his temper.  
 “Turn around,” Aramis said softly and took d’Artagnan’s hand in his. “Ignore him.”  
 d’Artagnan took a breath and he turned back around though his shoulders were tense. This time, instead of taunting d’Artagnan, Marcheaux let it go, but Constance didn’t like the look that he and Grimaud shared.  
                                                                                                                                          …..  
 “I hate that guy!” Constance watched as d’Artagnan fumed and paced the yard. The other boys had gone off to their fencing practice and Constance had come over to hang out with d’Artagnan and help him with his homework since Treville still wasn’t back yet. It’d quickly turned into d’Artagnan ranting and flailing about as he wore a path in the grass.  
 “Understandably,” Constance said and shrugged. “But you should ignore him. He’s an idiot and Grimaud’s a creep. There’s nothing more to them.”  
 “I can’t let it go!” d’Artagnan scowled. “They’re just so… so!” d’Artagnan let out an articulate growl of frustration. “You should hear the things they say! I hate it! I just want to punch their stupid teeth in!” d’Artagnan shook his head. “They can call me whatever they like. I don’t care.” He ran a hand through his hair as he finally came back onto the porch and sat down next to Constance on the porch swing. “But I can’t listen to them talk about the boys. I won’t.”  
 “I get it,” Constance said and she smiled softly. “You love them, that much is obvious.” She bumped their shoulders and d’Artagnan laughed, ducking his head. “The thing to keep in mind is: they’re alright. It might bother them a little, but they’ve been dealing with idiots like Marcheaux and Grimaud before you came along.”  
 “That doesn’t make it right!” d’Artagnan protested.  
 “No, you’re right, it doesn’t. But punching those two assholes isn’t going to make them change.” Constance smiled at him and then stood. It was getting late and her brothers would worry. She pressed a kiss to d’Artagnan’s cheek which made him smile. “Don’t think too much about it.”  
                                                                                                                                          ……  
 She’d been sewing a patch onto Adrien’s when her mobile rang. She answered it and cradled the phone between her cheek and her shoulder. “It’s Constance.”  
 “Constance have you seen Athos?” It was Aramis’s voice coming through on the other end.  
 “Not tonight. I thought he was with you and Porthos at fencing practice.” She frowned and set her sewing aside.  
 “He was but he stayed late as he usually does. But it’s usually only an hour, and he’s not answering his phone.”  
 “Aramis, take a deep breath.” She waited until she heard his breathing crackle through the line. “I’ll call him. If he answers I’ll text you, but don’t panic. Maybe he just went out and needed some time alone. He does that sometimes.” She smiled and tried to sound reassuring. It’d been a while since Athos had just dropped off the grid to be alone, but who knew? “Why don’t you just do something to distract yourselves?”  
 She heard Aramis suck in a breath. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, we’ll do that.”  
 “Alright. Talk to you later.”  
 “Thank you, love. Night.” Aramis hung up and Constance blew out a breath. She immediately tapped a quick text to Athos asking if he was alright and where he was. She didn’t get anything for a long time and finally she decided that she was going to head out and see if she could find him.  
 “Where’re you going?” Marcel asked from where he was finishing cleaning up from dinner.  
 “Athos has gone off the grid again,” Constance said as she pulled on Marcel’s cozy jacket. She flipped her hair out of the collar as her brother frowned.  
 “He alright?” Marcel asked and wiped his hands on his jeans.  
 “Who?” Léon asked from where he was studying on the couch.  
 “Athos,” Constance repeated as she tugged her shoes on.  
 “Be careful, Constance,” Léon said and pushed his glasses up on his nose. “If he doesn’t want to be found then leave him be.”  
 “It’s not like that this time,” Constance insisted as she grabbed her keys to the house.  
 “Either way, be careful,” Marcel said. “Call if anything goes wrong.”  
 “Will do.” Constance waved at them before she stepped outside. She was about to start walking down the street toward the gym that the boys fenced at when she felt off. something wasn’t right. “Hello?” She called and looked around. She heard a groan and she moved to where it’d come from. She rounded the corner of the house and she sucked in a breath before rushing over to where Athos was sprawled in the grass, his t-shirt covered in blood. “ _Mon Dieu_ , Athos.”  
 “Constance,” he said thickly and shifted so he could spit blood out of his mouth. He gave her a weak smile as she stripped off her brother’s jacket and moved to wrap it around his shoulders. “Sorry to bother you.”  
 “Oh shut up you idiot.” She shook her head and helped him sit up. “What happened?” She demanded and moved to make sure nothing else was injured. His eye was swollen and under his temple, framing his eye, was a bruise that would no doubt be darker in the morning. His nose was still trickling blood, but other than that he seemed alright. “Come on,” she said and started to haul him to his feet. “We need to get you inside so you can explain.”  
 He mumbled something and she just sighed heavily as she ducked under his arm. He hissed in discomfort but then they were staggering toward Treville’s house, with Constance examining her choice in friends.  
 “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” She asked as they were hobbling up the porch steps. Athos grinned wryly, his teeth stained red, and held up his phone which he’d been clutching in his hand. The screen was black and there was a crack that spanned the screen and even ran down the side.  
 “Sorry,” he mumbled as they finally made it to the door.  
 “Don’t apologize. You didn’t punch yourself in the face. Well, as far as I know anyway, and if you did, I’ll punch you myself.” Athos laughed and then winced as Constance knocked on the front door.  
 Porthos answered and went pale at seeing Constance propping up a beaten and bloodied Athos. “ _Merde_.” He moved to take Athos from Constance, hesitated, and then easily lifted Athos.  
 “’m fine,” Athos protested but he grimaced as Porthos gently shifted him to get a better grip.  
 “Shut up,” Porthos muttered darkly as he brought Athos inside, Constance trailing in behind them. “Aramis! First aid kit, kitchen, now!” They moved to settle Athos in a chair at the kitchen table. Aramis came in, kit in hand, with a confused look until he saw Athos.  
  _“¡Dios mío! ¿Novio? ¿Puedes escucharme_?” Aramis’s hands shook as he pushed Athos’s hair from his eyes. “What happened?” He demanded.  
 “Where’s d’Artagnan?” Athos asked, holding onto Aramis’s wrist.  
 “d’Artagnan? What-?”  
 “Where is he?” Athos asked insistently. Aramis sighed and shook his head.  
 “He’s upstairs,” Porthos reassured. “Pretty sure he’s mostly asleep.”  
 “Do you want me to get him?” Constance asked. Athos shook his head and then slumped into Aramis.    
 “No,” he mumbled and he seemed to deflate. “Leave him.”  
 Aramis bit his lip and then tipped Athos’s face up so he could start cleaning him up. They were tensely silent for a long time before Aramis, his tone brittle and angry, broke the silence. “What happened?”  
 “I was coming home,” Athos said and winced as Aramis swiped at the blood that was coating his face. Constance shifted restlessly before Porthos gently guided her into a chair. “I was about to shoulder my bag when I felt someone grab me. They threw me down and I hit my head so I was disoriented.” Athos rubbed his hands on his pants. “They hauled me back up again and they hit me. Repeatedly, obviously.” Athos chuckled weakly. “I stumbled back toward the house and they followed me.” Athos shrugged. “More of the same.”  
 “Who was it?” Aramis asked and Constance could see that he was getting angry.  
 “Does it matter?” Athos asked and Aramis scowled as he simply gave Athos a look. Athos sighed heavily. “It was Grimaud and Marcheaux.”  
 “Those slimy bastards,” Porthos growled and flexed his hands.  
 “Don’t you dare tell d’Artagnan that!” Athos snapped authoritatively. “Any of you.”  
 “Of course,” Porthos and Aramis said in unison.  
 “I won’t,” Constance said quietly.  
 “Good,” Athos sighed and when Aramis was finished he brought the other in for a short kiss. “All I want is to shower and go to bed.”  
 “Alright, Athos.” Aramis nodded but there was something hurt in his eyes. Athos had taken off Marcel’s jacket and on his grey t-shirt, scrawled in black sharpie, was a singular word.  
  _Faggot._  
 Constance sucked in a sharp breath as she distractedly took Marcel’s jacket back from Athos. “Athos…”  
 “It’s just a shirt,” Athos waved her off. “Just a shirt, just a word. I’ve been called far worse.” Constance blinked and nodded slowly.  
 “If you need anything,” Constance said fiercely but quietly.  
 “We’ll call,” Porthos said and smiled at her. “’Mis, why don’t you walk Constance out?” Aramis hadn’t looked away from Athos’s t-shirt since it’d been uncovered. “Aramis,” Porthos said again and Aramis snapped out of it.  
 “Yeah,” he said and walked off toward the door, leaving Constance behind.  
 “Goodnight, Athos.” Constance gave him a weak smile which he returned. “Take care of him,” Constance said to Porthos who just nodded. She walked toward the door and Aramis was standing on the porch, sucking in deep breaths of the cold night air. “He’s going to be alright.”  
 “I know,” Aramis said and his voice was strained.  
 “Go inside, Aramis. Take care of him.” Constance touched Aramis’s elbow and he jerked at her touch but then relaxed.  
 “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He smiled at her and then kissed her cheek. “Be careful, Constance.”  
 “I live next door,” Constance said with a slight frown.  
 “And Athos had that happen to him in front of our house.” Aramis’s face was angry again. Constance nodded and she started the short walk home. Aramis, she noted, stayed on the porch until she slipped inside her own house.  
 “Is Athos alright?” You find him?” Léon asked. Constance took a breath and then felt tears start running down her face. “Marcel!” Léon called before hopping over the back of the couch and moving to guide Constance to sit down. “Adrien!”  
 Both of her remaining brothers came in and they frowned at seeing Constance wiping shakily at tears. “What did you say?” Adrien asked and shoved Léon out of the way so he could hold onto her hand.  
 “I just asked if Athos was alright!”  
 “He’s fine,” Constance said and made herself stop crying. “Mostly.” She launched into the story of what had happened. Adrien was scowling and balling up his fists by the end. “And please,” Constance said and covered her brother’s hand, “don’t do anything. The boys want to just leave it.”  
 “Alright,” Adrien grit out through his teeth before kissing her cheek softly. “But if they want me to fuck those guys up-”  
 “I’ll have them call you.” Constance smiled and then stood. “I’m gonna head to bed, if that’s alright.”  
 “Goodnight,” Léon said and kissed her cheek. “Everything will work itself out.”  
 “Athos is a tough kid, they all are. And when Treville gets back, he’ll sort things out,” Marcel smiled and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep, _ma petite soeur_.”  
 Constance went upstairs, got ready for bed, and after she laid down, she stared at her ceiling for a long time. When she finally closed her eyes she hoped that everything with the boys would be alright.  
                                                                                                                                            …..  
 Getting Athos cleaned up had only made Aramis angrier and more distressed. His ribs, without being cracked or broken, were bruise and it made it hard for Athos to move. Aramis had stripped to his boxer briefs and had to hold Athos up while Porthos scrubbed him down as best he could.  
 They bundled him into a towel and Aramis, his underwear clinging to his thighs and the water chilling his skin, held him up as Porthos went to get something for him to sleep in.  
 “Here, I’ll take him.” Porthos gently held Athos and kissed his head despite his hair being soaking wet. Aramis toweled off quickly as Porthos helped Athos dry off and then get dressed. “Come on, let’s get you into your own bed.”  
 “No,” Athos said and shook his head. “I worried you all, and I want to stay with you.”  
 “We’re all going to be spoiled when Papa finally comes back,” Porthos tried to joke. “We won’t be able to all pile into my room then.”  
 Athos only hummed and leaned into Porthos more.  
 “Alright, to bed,” Porthos said and helped Athos along. Aramis took a moment and pushed his damp hair away from his eyes before following after them. “You need me to grab you some extra clothes?” Porthos asked from where he was pulling off his shirt so he could get ready for bed. d’Artagnan was already, as they’d thought, asleep and Athos was lying next to him. Aramis shook his head. Porthos picked up on Aramis’s mood and handed the other a dry pair of boxer briefs. “At least put these on.”  
 Aramis nodded and quickly changed before moving to the bed. He bit his lip and then Athos, knowing the look on Aramis’s face too well, shifted over so he could be between d’Artagnan and Athos. Aramis sighed gratefully before lying down. He felt better with d’Artagnan’s reassuring warmth coupled the soft brush of d’Artagnan’s t-shirt at his back, and Athos’s solid presence. Aramis slipped his hand under Athos’s shirt, just to have skin to skin contact, and settled his hand in the middle of Athos’s chest. It was reassuring to feel every beat of Athos’s heart and to feel the rise and fall of his chest.  
 “I’m okay,” Athos said and kissed Aramis’s forehead.  
 “I know.” Aramis burrowed closer and pressed his face to Athos’s shoulder, kissing him gently.  
 “Get some sleep. We’ve got school in the morning,” Porthos said as he settled on the other side of Athos, letting his hand rest just under Aramis’s on Athos’s stomach.  
 They all stayed awake for a long while, just staying silent and listening to the others breathe. Finally, secure in the knowledge they were all safe, they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's some more Constance, as per my brother's request, and another chapter up! I've been thinking about this one for a while but it was never the right time to put it in. Now it is! Hope you liked it! comment and let me know what you thought!  
> -James


	18. Thomas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis, Porthos, and d'Artagnan deal with the aftermath of Athos being attacked, and meeting Athos's younger brother Thomas.

            Athos woke up to a throbbing in his chest. He groaned and shifted away from the arm thrown over most of the bruises on his chest. But his movement jostled the person that the arm belonged to.

            “’thos,” d’Artagnan’s sleepy response came.

            Athos let out a litany of curses in his head. “Hey,” he said softly and went to shift to give d’Artagnan a kiss but it put pressure on his bruises and he hissed in pain before he could stifle it. d’Artagnan was immediately up and alert.

            “Athos, your eye. Are you hurt?” d’Artagnan asked. He brushed his fingers over the bruise that colored the side of Athos’s face.

            “ _Merde_ ,” Athos muttered as he settled back on his back.

            “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt! Aramis! Porthos!” d’Artagnan was very obviously indignant.

            Aramis started and he sat up, rubbing his eyes. He winced immediately as he saw the look of anger on d’Artagnan’s face. “Now, d’Artagnan…”

           “Don’t you dare!” d’Artagnan snapped. “Don’t you dare try to make it sound like I’m being unreasonable. Athos is hurt and you, both of you,” he snarled looking at Porthos who’d finally pushed himself up onto his elbows, “didn’t tell me!” They could see frustrated and angry tears glossing over his eyes.

            “d’Artagnan,” Athos said quietly and calmly. d’Artagnan looked at him with hurt, worry, frustration, and something else etched into his face. “I didn’t want to worry you.”  
            d’Artagnan let out a puff of air that was supposed to be a laugh. “Too late. You didn’t come home.”

            Athos, despite his sore body’s protesting, pushed himself up so he was propped up against the headboard. “Come here,” he said and opened his arms. d’Artagnan immediately moved into his embrace. “I’m sorry I worried you, all three of you.” He brushed a kiss to d’Artagnan’s head and gave Aramis and Porthos weak smiles. Then it hit him. “We have school, it’s Wednesday.”

            Porthos looked sheepishly at Aramis who just shrugged. “You need time to rest,” Aramis said firmly, “and we couldn’t leave you alone.”

            Athos shook his head fondly and buried his nose in d’Artagnan’s hair. “Alright. Just this once, I’ll let it go.”

            They all grinned at him.

                                                                                                                                            …..

            Athos was settled reading when Aramis came up to him. “Time to get up,” Aramis said and he helped Athos get to his feet. They’d done a little research and found out that Athos’s ribs were bruise. It didn’t take much time to find some solutions to help him stay on the mend. One of the things was Athos wasn’t allowed to sit for too long. Aramis looped his arm through Athos’s and they walked slowly around the living room as Athos slowly and carefully stretched his shoulders. Once Aramis was satisfied he settled Athos again and went to get the ice pack. Athos loved Aramis and knew that he was trying to keep himself too busy to think about it too much, but Athos felt a little smothered between Aramis, Porthos, and d’Artagnan all tending to him.

            Athos sighed and fumbled for where he’d set his glasses on the end table. He slipped them back onto his nose and picked up his book. He was thumbing through a page when he heard d’Artagnan’s voice in the kitchen mingling with Aramis’s.

            d’Artagnan had been helping Porthos clean up the house a little since Treville would be coming back soon. He had gone to the kitchen to get him and Porthos waters. Aramis was in the kitchen getting Athos’s icepack and ibuprofen. “I can take it,” d’Artagnan offered. “You look exhausted, ‘Mis.”

            “Didn’t get much sleep,” Aramis admitted. d’Artagnan frowned, he felt guilty for falling asleep when the others had obviously needed him. d’Artagnan moved to press a kiss to the corner of Aramis’s mouth.

            “Go take a nap, please. I’ll take care of Athos for a little while.” Aramis eyed him and then nodded.

            “Nothing strenuous, and don’t let him sit around for too long,” Aramis reminded. d’Artagnan nodded as he took the pills and the ice pack from Aramis’s hands.

            “Got it.” He left the kitchen and when he saw Athos he nearly tripped over Enjolras where he was lying on the floor. “ _Merde_!” He swore intensely as he gaped at Athos.

            Athos was wearing glasses.

            Athos looked like a hotter version of Atticus Finch.

            It was making d’Artagnan uncomfortable.

            “d’Artagnan?” Athos asked cautiously. d’Artagnan flushed as he realized he was clutching onto two ibuprofens and an icepack while staring like an idiot.

            “Ice!” d’Artagnan said and he held out the icepack as if it explained everything. Athos looked bemused but simply nodded before turning back to his book. d’Artagnan settled on the edge of the couch and gently laid the icepack on Athos’s chest. “Since when do you wear glasses?”

            “They’re just for reading,” Athos said and pushed his glasses up onto his head so he could see d’Artagnan properly. “I’ve had them for a couple of years.” Athos shrugged and took the pills from d’Artagnan’s hand. He dry-swallowed them with a wince before settling again.

            “Then why haven’t I seen them?” d’Artagnan asked. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Athos wear his glasses, not even when they were reading or doing homework together.

            “Because I lose them. Frequently.” Athos shrugged. “Why the fascination suddenly?”

            d’Artagnan flushed. “I do _not_ have a fascination,” he said defensively.

            Athos laughed, then winced. “Whatever you say.”

            “Shut up.”

            “Make me,” Athos said an d’Artagnan felt a shudder run down his spine at the look in Athos’s eye.

            He smirked and gently moved Athos so he was sitting up fully against the back of the couch. “I promised Aramis we wouldn’t do anything too strenuous, so you have to keep still.” Athos’s eyes were wide as d’Artagnan moved to kneel between Athos’s knees. “Promise?”

            Athos nodded as if he’d been hit in the head.

            d’Artagnan grinned at Athos as moved the ice pack and then he took the bottom of Athos’s shirt in his hands. He easily worked it off and tossed it down on the couch. He sucked in a shaky breath at seeing the dark bruise that stained Athos’s pale skin. d’Artagnan moved to brush soft kisses over the sensitive skin. Athos sucked in a breath and d’Artagnan pulled back to make sure he was alright.

           “’m fine,” Athos said, his eyes shut. d’Artagnan couldn’t see a trace of pain on Athos’s face so he went back to brushing kisses lightly along Athos’s chest. He pulled back and settled the icepack onto the bruise and moved his kisses further down toward the waistband of Athos’s jeans.

          Athos’s head tipped back to rest on the back of the couch and d’Artagnan grinned as he easily opened up Athos’s jeans.

          “d’Artagnan,” Athos groaned quietly and d’Artagnan chuckled against Athos’s hip.

          “Athos,” d’Artagnan said quietly and tapped Athos’s hip gently so that Athos would lift his hips. Athos did so that d’Artagnan could pull his jeans around his knees.

          d’Artagnan pulled them the rest of the way off as he pressed kisses along Athos’s thighs, rucking up the legs of his boxer briefs to get to Athos’s skin. Athos’s hand fell down to d’Artagnan’s head and his breath was getting ragged as d’Artagnan teased him.

         “d’Artagnan, please,” Athos said and gently tugged on d’Artagnan’s hair.

         “Well,” d’Artagnan said as he pulled a packet of lube from his back pocket, “since you asked so nicely.” Athos frowned for a second but all thoughts flew out of his head when d’Artagnan ripped open the packet with his teeth. He coated his palm with lube and closed his hand so that it coated his whole hand and started to warm up more than it had while in his pocket. d’Artagnan leaned forward and kissed Athos’s stomach as he slid his hand into Athos’s underwear. He took Athos’s dick in hand and slowly started to stroke him. Athos shuddered under him and d’Artagnan shifted up further onto his knees so he could pepper kisses along Athos’s chest as he slowly jerked him off.

         d’Artagnan took his time and he thumbed over the head and twisted his wrist the way he was sure that Athos would like. Each time he was rewarded with a shaky, stifled moan.  
“You’re not supposed to hold anything in,” d’Artagnan reminded and Athos let out a breath through his teeth.

         “That’s- _fuck_ \- coughs,” Athos managed to get out as he tried to push up into d’Artagnan’s hand. d’Artagnan just shoved his hips back.

         “No straining,” d’Artagnan said firmly and picked up his efforts just a little so that Athos wouldn’t hurt himself. Athos let out a frustrated groan that easily morphed into one of pleasure.

         d’Artagnan could feel that Athos was close. He was shaky, his eyes were shut, and his jaw was slack. Each breath sounded like it’d been punched out of him. d’Artagnan only gave Athos two more strokes, passing his thumb over the head with just a little more pressure than normal, before he came. d’Artagnan stilled his movements and kissed Athos’s hip as he slowly rode out and then came down from his orgasm.

        d’Artagnan pulled his dirty hand away and tucked Athos back into his underwear with his clean hand. Athos lifted his head to look at d’Artagnan with a dazed grin. “Better?”

        Athos hummed. “Yeah, a little.”

       “Good,” d’Artagnan said.

       “Should wash your hands,” Athos said as he shifted the ice pack so that it was resting on the right spot on his chest.

        d’Artagnan just hummed and then licked his thumb. Athos’s cum was bitter on his tongue but the reaction it got from Athos was worth the slightly unpleasant taste.

        Athos’s whole body shuddered and his eyes went dark and hot.

        “What did I say about doing anything strenuous?”

        The moment was broken by Aramis glaring at them. His hair was in disarray so he must have gone upstairs to try and get some sleep like d’Artagnan had suggested.

         “I wasn’t even allowed to move,” Athos pointed out as d’Artagnan stood. “He was careful, Aramis.”

         “Go wash your hands!” Aramis snapped and d’Artagnan ducked his head and headed into the kitchen to do just that. “He could have hurt you,” Aramis said sharply to Athos.

         “He was trying to help, to distract me,” Athos said and shook his head. “I’m alright, Aramis. I feel better.”

         “That’s just adrenaline or dopamine or whatever,” Aramis waved his hand dismissively.

          “Oxytocin,” Athos corrected.

          “I don’t care!” Aramis shouted.

          The whole house seemed to fall completely silent.

          Aramis didn’t shout. Ever.

          Aramis’s chest heaved and Athos could see the tears glittering in his eyes. “Aramis, come here,” Athos said softly and he set his hand on the spot beside him. Aramis moved and he sat, his head down. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

          “I hate this,” Aramis said softly. “I hate what they did to you. They hurt you and you were right outside and we didn’t even _know_.”

          “Aramis,” Athos said and he gently pulled Aramis so his head was resting on Athos’s shoulder. “This isn’t your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault other than Grimaud and Marcheaux’s.” Athos kissed Aramis’s forehead. “I’m okay. Nothing’s broken, and I’m still right here.”

          “I just… I know what can happen,” Aramis said and he fiddled with the shirt he was wearing, one of Athos’s faded and worn band t-shirts.

          “But that’s not what happened to me. I know you were worried, and you’re trying to help, but snapping at d’Artagnan isn’t going to change what happened.”

          “I hate how reasonable you are,” Aramis sniffed and swiped at his eyes.

          “One of us has to be,” Athos said. He tilted his head back to try and see into the kitchen, he couldn’t hear the water anymore, but he couldn’t see. “You should go get d’Artagnan. Apologize for snapping and shouting.”

          Aramis nodded and he kissed Athos for a long, lingering moment before pulling away and heading into the kitchen. It was quiet until Athos heard Aramis.

          “Oh no.”

          Athos didn’t like Aramis’s tone. He pushed himself up and hobbled toward the kitchen to see Aramis was alone and the back door was wide open.

          “Fuck,” Athos muttered and he moved to grab his jeans and put them back on. “Porthos!” Athos shouted as he stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Porthos!!”

          “What’s going on?” Porthos asked as he peered down the stairs at Athos.

          “Get me my hoodie and a pair of socks.”

          “Why?” Porthos asked, a furrow in his brow.

           “d’Artagnan.” Porthos’s face went serious and he darted off to get what Athos asked him to.

           “You can’t go after him,” Aramis said as Athos made his way to the door.

           “Like hell I can’t,” Athos muttered as he grabbed up his shirt and put it on with difficulty. Aramis winced in sympathy as Athos’s breath hitched in pain. “I can’t believe I was so careless. He was right here, and I fucking said their names.” Athos shook his head in disgust at himself.

           “Athos, please,” Aramis said as Porthos came in and handed everything to Athos. Athos quickly put on socks and his shoes before pulling on his hoodie and zipping it up.

           “You two won’t be able to talk him out of this,” Athos said, “I have to go.”

           “I’m not sure he’s not got the right idea,” Porthos muttered darkly. Athos shot him a disapproving look before heading to stand in the doorway.

           “If he calls, call me.” Athos took off out the door.

                                                                                                                                          …..

            Athos’s chest burned when he finally caught up to d’Artagnan a block down the road. He was glaring at the split in the road and then down at his shoes.

            “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Athos asked breathlessly but the tone was clear.

            d’Artagnan turned and he scowled at being caught. “Go home, Athos. You shouldn’t be out here.”

            “And neither should you.”

            “Why not?” d’Artagnan snarled. “Those… those assholes hurt you! I’m just supposed to sit around and be _okay_ with that?”

            “Of course not,” Athos scoffed but it just sent a ripple of pain through him. “But don’t do anything stupid either.”

           “What am I supposed to do then, Athos?” d’Artagnan asked and he was lit up with fury. “You told me to ignore them at school and this is what happened!” d’Artagnan gestured to the way Athos was standing funny to take pressure off his injuries. “I won’t let them get away with it! I can’t!”

            “d’Artagnan, listen to me,” Athos said, his tone dangerously low. “If you love me, you will respect what I want to be done in this situation: nothing.”

            d’Artagnan looked like he’d been slapped.

            “I do love you,” d’Artagnan said and he clenched his hands at his sides. They shook as he kept his gaze on Athos steadily. “But don’t ask me to do nothing. Don’t ask me to let this happen to you.”

            “It’s already happened!” Athos shouted in a burst of frustration. “There’s nothing you or Porthos or Aramis can do to change that!” Athos took a deep breath and shut his eyes. He knew he was overdoing it by the way white spots danced behind his eyes.

            “Athos?” d’Artagnan asked and he immediately moved to wrap a steadying arm around Athos’s back.

            “I just want to go home,” Athos said and he leaned his forehead to d’Artagnan’s chest.

            “Alright,” d’Artagnan said, the fight draining out of him. “We’ll go home.”

            They stumbled home together and d’Artagnan got Athos tucked into bed after quickly helping him out of his hoodie and shoes. He was sitting on the edge of Athos’s bed when they heard the front door open and shut.

            “I’ll go see who it is,” d’Artagnan said and gave Athos a swift kiss.

            Athos didn’t stay awake long enough to find out who it was.

                                                                                                                                 .....

            Treville frowned as he looked over Athos. He’d sent the other boys to school this morning since they’d missed the day before.

           “It’s not good, but it could have been worse,” Treville said as Athos settled weakly against the pillows keeping him propped up.

           “I know,” Athos said and Treville sighed heavily.

           “What do you want to do about it, Olivier?” Treville asked and crossed his arms over his chest.

           “Nothing,” Athos said and brushed his hair away from his eyes.

           “Are you sure?” Treville asked. He didn’t like it, but if it was truly what Athos wanted, he wouldn’t push it. Athos nodded and Treville did as well. “Then that’s that settled.”

           “How did everything go?” Athos asked, changing the subject.

           “Everything’s fine. Your money’s the same as it always has been. Safe and mostly untouched except for to pay the bills on the house where Thomas lives.” Athos nodded contentedly. “And I have some news about the farm for d’Artagnan.”

          “Oh?” Athos asked.

          Treville hummed. “I’d like to tell him first, and _you_ ,” Treville said as he looked at Athos sternly, “need to rest.”

          Athos nodded and he let his head fell back against the pillows.

                                                                                                                                     …..

            The rest of the week passed with Porthos, Aramis, and d’Artagnan going to school and Athos staying home to recover. Saturday morning came and they were all sitting at breakfast when Treville spoke up. “I know you’ve been busy, d’Artagnan, but I need to talk to you about something.”

            d’Artagnan’s brows creased and he rubbed his hands on his jeans. “What is it?”

            “It’s about your father’s farm,” Treville said. d’Artagnan tensed but Treville waved his hand. “It’s all fine. It’s still yours as per your father’s will and wishes, as is this.” Treville slid something across the table to d’Artagnan.

            The boy looked at the keys and then up at Treville, his brown eyes wide. “Are these-?”

            “The keys to the truck,” Treville said.

            “And they’re mine?”

            “They’re not mine,” Treville said with a small smile as he took his plate to the sink. d’Artagnan grinned and he took the keys from the table and put them into his pocket. “The truck should be here this afternoon.”

            “Just in time for us to take it for a drive,” d’Artagnan said and looked at the others. They blinked at him for a moment before it dawned on him.

            “Thomas,” Athos said and smacked his forehead. “I forgot.”

            “They hit your head that hard?” Porthos snorted and Athos glared at him, but it was all playful.

            “We’ve waited for forever to meet your brother, we’re not going to miss this opportunity.” Aramis stood and moved to wash his plate as well, brushing a kiss to Athos’s head as he passed.

             “Is it too late to back out?” Athos asked.

             “Yes!” All three of the others said in unison.

             Athos sighed. “Then I better go shower and put on real people clothes.”

             Porthos and d’Artagnan nodded and they moved to put their plates in the sink. They all washed up their breakfast dishes and then headed up to the bathroom. They all moved around each other effortlessly in the bathroom as Athos showered and Aramis, Porthos, and d’Artagnan went about their routines.

            They all drifted into their rooms to start getting dressed. d’Artagnan was rifling through his wardrobe when he felt Aramis’s arms wrap around his waist. “Hey,” d’Artagnan said and pressed a swift kiss to Aramis’s jaw as he looked for a nicer t-shirt. He was meeting Athos’s only brother, he wanted to look nice.

            “I can hear you panicking from across the room,” Aramis said and brushed a kiss to the nap of d’Artagnan’s neck.

            “It’s Athos’s _brother_. His only family that he seems to care about. So yeah, I’m a little nervous.”

            “He’s the same age as you, if that helps,” Aramis said and turned d’Artagnan around. “And Athos loves you, all of us, and even if Thomas hated us it wouldn’t change his mind.” Aramis let go of d’Artagnan’s shoulders. “It would hurt Athos’s feelings, but not change them.”

            d’Artagnan let out a breath and gave Aramis a smile. “Thank you, ‘Mis.”

            “Anytime.”

            They dressed quickly and d’Artagnan messed with his hair in the mirror until Aramis came over and fixed it. Unfortunately for the state of d’Artagnan’s hair, they got distracted and it ended up mussed by Aramis’s hands as d’Artagnan nipped at Aramis’s bottom lip.

            “Honestly, you two,” they pulled away from each other to see Porthos rolling his eyes at them.

            “In your own time,” they heard Athos call from behind Porthos.

            d’Artagnan flushed and moved to fix his hair and smooth his shirt back down. Aramis brushed past Porthos with a wink and then they were all going down to stand in the driveway.

            They stared at d’Artagnan’s truck for a moment.

            “What a…” Aramis started and tried to find the right word.

            “Piece of junk,” Porthos said and wrinkled his nose at the beaten-up truck that offensively sat in their driveway.

            “Hey!” d’Artagnan snapped defensively. “This truck was my father’s!”

            “And your grandfather’s by the look of it,” Athos said and shrugged simply when d’Artagnan turned to glare at him.

            “We’re not taking this to meet Thomas,” Porthos said and shook his head.

            “And why’s that?” d’Artagnan asked hotly.

            “Because we won’t all fit, for one.” Porthos rolled his eyes and patted d’Artagnan’s back before heading inside to grab the keys to the car. They all got in, d’Artagnan half sulking because of the comments about his father’s, now his, truck.

            “If I promise to blow you when we get home, will you stop pouting?” Porthos asked and glanced at d’Artagnan in the rearview mirror.

            “I’m not pouting, and I don’t want your pity blowjobs,” d’Artagnan muttered.

            Aramis just settled a consoling hand on d’Artagnan’s knee. The air was light until they parked in the little café where they’d arranged to meet Thomas. Athos checked his phone and sent Thomas a quick message before they all got out and headed inside to snag a table. They settled in the corner where there was a large round table.

           They all sat with their hands around their mugs but there was an air of restlessness to them all. Porthos kept looking to the door whenever someone on the street walked past, Aramis was tracing the lip of his mug, and d’Artagnan’s was bouncing his leg under the table.

           “You all know that this is just for you to meet, right? He’s not going to size you up or anything,” Athos said and looked around at them.

           “He’s your brother,” Aramis said flatly.

           “Yeah, he’s gonna do that,” Porthos said. “It’s just what siblings do when they meet the significant other, or others in this case, for the first time.”

           “I did it with my little sisters,” Aramis pointed out.

           “And I do it with Flea from time to time.” Porthos shrugged. “You don’t do it on purpose.”

           d’Artagnan looked even more nervous than before all of a sudden.

          Athos was about to protest when the door opened and he locked eyes with his brother. He stood, about to wave Thomas over, when Thomas spotted him.

          “Ollie!” Thomas grinned and practically sprinted into a tight hug with his brother. Athos had to take a step back to keep from falling over.

          “Tommy,” Athos breathed out with a laugh. “You just had to make a scene, didn’t you?”

          “It’s my specialty,” Thomas said with a wink as he pulled away.

          “Thomas.” Thomas looked back sheepishly and there was Catherine trailing behind at a more customary and sedate pace. “Olivier, pleasure to see you again so soon.”

          “Tommy?” Athos raised an eyebrow and Thomas just shrugged inelegantly.

          “She asked to come too. I thought it might be good for all of us to get to know each other.” Thomas smiled and then he turned to look at the others around the table. “You must be Porthos,” Thomas said and nodded to where Porthos was sitting, his shoulders now suddenly very tense, “and d’Artagnan, and Aramis. Thank God I can finally meet you all.” Thomas shook all their hands politely as he moved to settle in the seat across from Athos. “This is my girlfriend, Catherine.”

         “Charmed.” Catherine looked anything but as she settled next to Thomas.

         Athos felt a tension in that air that Thomas, as was his nature, completely ignored. “I want to know everything. Ollie doesn’t tell me anything about you.” Thomas shot Athos a look and then rolled his eyes. “Typical.”

         “Yeah, typical,” Aramis said with a forced smile. Porthos and Aramis exchanged a look as they took in Athos’s younger brother. He was obviously much posher and at ease than Athos, but the resemblance was striking and undeniable. They were brothers.

         “So, I know you met because of Treville. You all live at the same home as Ollie, I assume.” Thomas smiled.

         “Yeah, we do,” Porthos said and his fingers tapped at the side of his mug. “Treville is my adoptive father, but Aramis and d’Artagnan are foster kids.”

         Thomas nodded and it seemed free of any kind of judgement. Catherine on the other hand kept looking between Athos and the others with a faint look of disdain. “I’m glad you could be there for him when I couldn’t,” Thomas said honestly. He smiled at Athos a little sadly and rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Ollie… he’s so…” Thomas shrugged but Aramis, smiling, nodded.

         “He is,” Aramis said and he slid his hand into Athos’s under the table.

         “So how old are all of you?” Thomas asked, practically swiping the tension away.

         “I’m eighteen, same as Athos,” Porthos said.

         “Seventeen,” Aramis said and bumped Athos’s shoulder.

          d’Artagnan, who’d been very quiet, smiled at Thomas nervously. “I’m sixteen, same as you I hear.”

          “Yes,” Thomas said. “Ollie never told me you were so young.”

          “We’re only two years apart, Tommy.” Athos gave Thomas a look as he studied d’Artagnan.

          “Still, when you go to university… it’ll be hard.”

          “Thomas,” Athos said quietly.

          “I’m serious, Olivier.” They both stared at each other. They only ever used their full first names when they were either angry with each other or trying to make a point. “Two years, and you won’t be together anymore, it’s a big change.”

           d’Artagnan looked a little ill as he glanced between Porthos, Athos, and Aramis. He’d not thought about them going to university before him. Hell, he’d never even thought about university. His chest felt tight and he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Excuse me for a minute,” d’Artagnan said and stood abruptly. He moved toward the back where there was a sign for a bathroom.

           “Thomas!” Athos said. “Why would you say that? You did that on purpose.”

           “I did not,” Thomas shot back. “I just want you to realize that with his age, things could be difficult after the school year is over, and we’re almost halfway there.” Thomas gestured outside to where the weather was chilly and only getting colder.

           “Who says I’m even going to university?” Athos demanded and he stood. “I don’t need you looking after me, Thomas. I’m the eldest if you remember correctly. Now if you’ll excuse me-”

            “I’ll go, Athos,” Aramis said and settled a hand on Athos’s shoulder gently.

            Athos turned so he was facing Aramis. “You’re sure?” He asked quietly.

            “Work this out, quickly and quietly, and I’ll coax him out. He just needed a breather.” Aramis brushed a kiss to Athos’s cheek before heading into the bathroom after d’Artagnan.

            Athos took a breath and settled into his seat. “I’ll think about university later. It’ll be a decision I make with them, they’re… they’re everything to me, Tommy.” Athos gave his brother a look and Thomas nodded.

            “I’m sorry, Ollie. I just… I want you- you deserve to be happy.”

            “I _am_ ,” Athos said and ran a hand through his hair.

            “Alright, change of topic since I have surely made at least two of your boyfriends not like me.” Thomas made a face but Athos could see that he really was sorry that he’d upset d’Artagnan. “What the hell happened to your face?”

            Athos frowned and then it clicked. “Oh, that.” Athos brushed his fingers over the fading bruise on his cheek. “It’s nothing. Just a fight.”

            Porthos snorted and Athos shot him a look. “Athos got beaten up by ignorant asses who need to learn some manners.” Porthos was scowling into his coffee cup.

            Thomas merely raised an eyebrow. “Some boys at school don’t seem to like the fact we’re together,” Athos shrugged. “They beat me up. It’s over with.”

            “Christ, Ollie,” Thomas muttered.

            “Let’s not talk about it,” Porthos said and nodded toward where Aramis and d’Artagnan were coming back. “Pup’s back.”

            Aramis traded seats with d’Artagnan so that he was settled next to Athos. Athos glanced at him and smiled softly. “Better?”

            “Sure,” d’Artagnan said and slid his hand into Athos’s, obviously seeking some kind of comfort. Something Athos was more than willing to give. He squeezed d’Artagnan’s hand and d’Artagnan smiled back at him.

            “So.” They all looked up to see Catherine watching them with vague disinterest. “How does this work? This… relationship.” She said the word like it was something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. Aramis bristled at the tone and Porthos frowned. “Does Olivier get passed between you or…?”

            Even Thomas looked at Catherine with wide eyes. “Cat, don’t.” She shot Thomas a sharp look that had him flinching back from her.

            “I’m not sure I follow,” Athos said politely.

            “Well,” Catherine said, “I’m not sure you’d all fit into one bed.” She chuckled as if she’d just said something funny. Thomas looked to Athos with wide, apologetic eyes. Porthos was scowling, d’Artagnan was frowning, and Aramis looked about a second away from throwing something nasty in her face.

            Athos snorted and they all turned to look at him. “Well, we’ve somehow managed it, on a few occasions and some, admittedly, interesting positions.” Everyone’s eyes widened as Athos went on. “It’s a fairly simple concept, and one I’m sure Thomas would be more than happy to enlighten you on since he does have some experience with these things.” Thomas’s cheeks were bright red. “I love them, they all love me and each other. We go on dates, we hold hands, we kiss, we _fuck_. All together if we want, or just a few, or just two of us. Does that answer your vague but pointed question?” Athos was so calm and polite despite his obvious anger.

            Catherine at least looked embarrassed. “I suppose it does,” she muttered and brushed her hair from her face.

            “Good, then I suppose, to you, I only have two things left to say. One: I don’t care if you don’t like my choice of partners. They’re mine and I love them, all of them, dearly. They may not be up to your standards, but I gave up being a snobbish rich boy years ago.” She gaped at being caught sizing them all up. “Two: if you treat Thomas badly in any way, you’ll have me to answer to.” Athos stood, perfectly poised and radiating authority. “Thomas, we should do this again sometime. Though, perhaps, with better company. Come on.” Athos smiled at Aramis, Porthos, and d’Artagnan. “I think it’s time we go home.”

            They all stood and drained their coffees before smiling at Thomas, who was trying to step on a grin of his own, and leaving. Athos let out a breath when they were outside and Aramis just kissed his neck with a grin.

           “Where the fuck did that come from?” Porthos asked.

           “It came from me being sick of having to explain all my life choices to people I don’t give a shit about,” Athos said. “That and she’d been glaring at you all since she walked in the door. I thought she needed a lesson in politeness.” Athos slumped a little.

           “You’re sooooo getting laid tonight,” Aramis said and pressed into Athos’s side. “Because that… was _hot_.”  
Athos laughed, brightly and warmly, as he wrapped an arm around Aramis’s shoulders. “Is that so?”

           “Don’t believe me? Look at d’Artagnan. Halfway through that aristocratic outburst of yours,” Athos rolled his eyes, “he was shifting to hide that boner of his.”

          Athos looked over at d’Artagnan and the boy’s ears were burning red and he was shifting a little uncomfortably.

          “We’ll just have to remedy that,” Athos said and pointedly looked up and down d'Artagnan's body.

          “You gonna start using that voice in the bedroom?” Porthos asked casually as they made their way to the car.

          “I don’t know, I suppose if I must,” Athos said in a bored drawl. Aramis and Porthos grinned while d’Artagnan just groaned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! I apologize for not knowing how dicks work btw. Hope you all liked it! And I'm hoping to get back to a more regular updating schedule now that I'm settled at uni.  
> -James


	19. Exes and Oh No's Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ex shows up and causes a rift between Aramis and Porthos

            “Family meeting!” Treville shouted up the stairs. Four heads poked out of Porthos’s room with eerily similar frowns on their faces.

            “Since when do we do family meetings?” René asked, his nose wrinkling up.

            “Since I just said so,” Treville said and shook his head. “Kitchen, now.”

            Porthos moved immediately downstairs while the others trailed behind him. Olivier and René looked to Porthos with raised eyebrows, but Porthos merely shrugged as he and Charles sat down.

            “What’s this about, Papa?” Porthos asked diplomatically after they’d all settled.

            “We’re going to have another boy staying with us,” Treville said.

            “And that required a family meeting?” Porthos’s brows drew together and he glanced to Olivier to see if there was something he’d missed.

            “It is since someone else is going to have to share a room,” Treville said and tucked his hands into his pockets. “We always had an understanding when it was just the four of us that René would share if another boy came, now that d’Artagnan’s here, though we don’t blame you,” Treville said quickly to Charles so that he wouldn’t get the wrong idea, “we need another room.”

            “Oh.” René slumped in his chair as he started to think.

            All of them sat in thought for a long moment.

            Treville took a breath, causing the boys to look at him, before he hesitantly spoke again. “And, he’s coming in an hour so make it quick.” That wasn’t what he’d been intending to say, but perhaps it was best to leave things to work themselves out.

            “I’ll share,” Olivier said waving his hand. “I’ll move my dresser so that a bed can be set up on the far wall.”

            “Perfect,” Treville said and nodded. “Porthos, help him.”

            “Yes, Papa.” Porthos and Olivier made their way upstairs and Treville sighed heavily. This wasn’t going to turn out well.

…..

            They were all lounging around doing their homework in the living room when there was a knock on the door. Treville was immediately walking toward the door to get it. d’Artagnan watched as the door was opened and a conversation was held before a boy stepped inside. He couldn’t have been older than Aramis, and he had light brown curly hair.

            “Thank you, Treville,” he said and when his voice carried over to them Porthos and Aramis both stiffened. A dark look passed over Porthos’s face while a bright smile overtook Aramis’s. He whipped around in his seat to look toward the boy at the door.

            “Jean André!” Aramis hopped over the back of his chair and pelted toward the boy at the door. The boy smiled and when Aramis jumped into his arms he caught Aramis expertly. If that didn’t shock d’Artagnan, the lingering kiss he gave the new boy certainly did. At the sound Porthos turned and saw Aramis pulling away from the kiss, and his glare sharpened.

            “Marsac,” he said and d’Artagnan instinctively shrank in his seat at that tone.

            “Porthos,” the boy, Marsac seemed a fitting name to the oily smile, said. “You look good.”

            “So do you.” Porthos looked like he was going to choke on his words.

            d’Artagnan leaned over to Athos subtly. “What the hell?” He nodded toward where Porthos had moved to wrap a possessive arm around Aramis’s waist as the two of them talked to Marsac.

            “No fuckin’ clue,” Athos said and frowned as Aramis shrugged off Porthos’s arm casually. Porthos’s shoulders went tense and d’Artagnan immediately spoke up.

            “Porthos!” He called. “Can you help me with this please?” He glanced down at his homework and then back at Porthos pleadingly. Porthos seemed to soften just a fraction and he nodded.

            “Yeah, of course, pup.” Porthos came over and d’Artagnan took his hand as he made up a question about his history homework. Porthos gave d’Artagnan a look that clearly said that he knew that d’Artagnan was full of it, but that he appreciated it anyway. “Good?” Porthos asked and bumped their shoulders.

            d’Artagnan hummed his assent and then leaned in to kiss Porthos.

            “Athos, love of my life, my darling, my sun and stars,” Aramis said and flopped over the back of Athos’s chair.

            “I knew we shouldn’t have let him watch _Game of Thrones_ ,” Athos muttered as pushed his glasses up onto his head. “Yes, Aramis, moon of my life.” Athos quirked a wry grin.

            “What if d’Artagnan swapped with Jean André? He doesn’t know you and I know that you’d rather share with d’Artagnan,” Aramis said and brushed his nose against Athos’s temple. Athos gave Porthos a look and Porthos just ducked his head, his hands clenching hard in his lap.

            d’Artagnan looked between them confused and he bit his lip.

            “I don’t know,” Athos admitted. “Ask Porthos,” Athos said trying to pass it to Porthos who was the one that seemed to have a problem.

            “But Porthos doesn’t sleep in your room, you do,” Aramis insisted. “Please?” He bat his eyelashes at Athos and Athos sighed heavily before brushing his foot against Porthos’s.

            “I gue-” Athos hadn’t even finished before Aramis was whooping and taking off up the stairs.

            “What the actual fuck, Athos?!” Porthos growled as soon as Aramis was out of earshot.

            “My room, my rules,” Athos said and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Unless you have some reason that you don’t _trust_ Aramis?” d’Artagnan could tell it was a barb and Porthos recoiled, stung by it.

            “You know I trust him but-”

            “Then trust him,” Athos said sternly. “Either you trust him or you don’t. Simple.”

            “You know I trust Aramis,” Porthos said softly. “But Marsac is another story completely.” He stood stiffly and moved to head upstairs.

            “That was well handled,” d’Artagnan said sarcastically as he rolled his eyes. He tucked his highlighter into his book and snapped it shut.

            “What?” Athos demanded defensively.

            “You can be such an _ass_ sometimes,” d’Artagnan snapped back before leaning down to kiss him. “I love you,” he said aggressively and shook his head. “But right now, I’m not so fond of you.”

            d’Artagnan hear Athos sigh heavily as he walked away. He headed after Porthos and slipped his hand into Porthos’s as he headed up the stairs. “You know Athos was trying,” d’Artagnan said.

            “I know, but he wasn’t here.” Porthos shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

            “I’m not asking you to explain,” d’Artagnan pointed out.

            “I know,” Porthos said and he gently tugged on d’Artagnan’s hand. “You finished with your homework?”

            “Just about, only have a page left,” d’Artagnan said, but his eyes ached and his focus was stretched thin so he needed a break. “But I can leave it ‘til after dinner.”

            “Good,” Porthos said and his steps were more determined as he tugged d’Artagnan into his bedroom. When the door was shut Porthos crowded d’Artagnan against it and plucked the book from the younger boy’s hands. He tossed it onto his desk, where the highlighter marking d’Artagnan’s place clattered out of it.

            “Hey,” d’Artagnan protested and gave Porthos a look.

            “I’ll find your place,” Porthos promised as he slipped his fingers underneath d’Artagnan’s t-shirt.

            d’Artagnan grinned and pressed into Porthos’s warm hands. “I bet you will,” d’Artagnan joked, turning the innocent enough comment into a double entendre.

            Porthos snorted and rolled his eyes but leaned down to kiss d’Artagnan anyway. d’Artagnan got on his toes to hold onto Porthos’s shoulders and after a moment he plucked restlessly at Porthos’s shirt collar.

            “You want it off?” Porthos asked and set a hand to his own chest. d’Artagnan nodded almost shyly. “Alright,” Porthos said and pulled his t-shirt off. d’Artagnan leaned back against the door and admired the view.

            “I love you,” d’Artagnan said and smiled so brightly at Porthos it made the older boy’s chest ache a little.

            “Love you too,” Porthos said and then they were kissing again and moving toward Porthos’s bed. Porthos didn’t think it was going to go anywhere, but it was nice. He shifted so that d’Artagnan was under him and he pulled back to look at d’Artagnan’s face, make sure he was comfortable with their position. Granted, they were almost the same height, damn kid seemed to grow a foot every time Porthos blinked, but Porthos was heavier, stronger, and he didn’t want d’Artagnan to feel trapped.

            “I’m fine,” d’Artagnan said breathlessly, seeing Porthos’s face twisted up as he looked for something. “Well, not really because you’re not kissing me _right now_.” He pulled Porthos back down and hummed into their kiss as Porthos cradled his face gently.

            d’Artagnan was about to unbuckle Porthos’s belt when the door swung open. d’Artagnan felt his face go red as Aramis and Marsac stood there.

            “Aramis! Knock,” Porthos said and moved away from d’Artagnan, clearly embarrassed as well.

            “Since when?” Aramis asked and d’Artagnan could see the glint of hurt in his face. “I just wanted to ask- nevermind.” Aramis smiled weakly before ducking his head. Marsac wrapped a consoling arm around Aramis’s shoulders and they walked out.

            “Alright,” d’Artagnan said and crossed his arms over his chest as he looked up at Porthos who was still poised over him. “I wasn’t asking before, now I am. What the hell?”

            Porthos scowled but then he sighed heavily and moved to flop down beside d’Artagnan on the bed. “It’s stupid. I know it is.”

            “Porthos, context please.”

            “Marsac dated Aramis before we got together.” Porthos brushed a hand over his hair and chewed his lip. “It’s complicated, and I don’t know a lot of what went on between them but they were always perfect together. I was so jealous then, and I just… I don’t want Aramis to- to leave.”

            “He won’t,” d’Artagnan said and shifted to look at Porthos. “He loves us, and honestly you mostly, more than anything. I wouldn’t worry.”

            “d’Artagnan, I’m not trying to sound patronizing, but-”

            “But you’re going to anyway.”

            “- you weren’t here. They were so in love.” Porthos flicked his eyes to the wall and traced his eyes over the grey paint.

            “Then why did they break up?” d’Artagnan’s patience was running thin. He didn’t like the beaten down look in Porthos’s eyes, he didn’t like being in conflict with Athos, he _hated_ to see Porthos and Aramis at odds. And the ache behind his eyes certainly wasn’t helping his already bristly temper. “If they were so perfect and in love then why is he with us? Why is he _happy_ with us?” d’Artagnan got up and shook his head. “I get it can be hard to see Aramis so comfortable with someone that isn’t us, but he gets to have friends, and a past.”

            Porthos was staring at d’Artagnan with wide eyes. d’Artagnan turned and he was about to storm into his room but then he remembered Marsac was staying there. He turned and went into Athos’s room and flopped down onto Athos’s bed, next to Athos.

            “Who made you mad now? Seems we’re all on a streak,” Athos muttered as he lazily turned the page of his book.

            “Oh, shut up.”

…..

            “Talk to him.”

            “d’Artagnan-”

            “No! He’s upset and you two are off and it’s weird when you’re off because you two are _never_ off.” d’Artagnan glared at Aramis. “I don’t understand the whole Marsac thing, honestly I don’t see what you’d see in him, but it happened. That’s fine you’re allowed to have exes and all that,” d’Artagnan waved his hand, “but you can’t let it ruin what you have with Porthos now.”

            Aramis gaped. “What? Why’s Porthos upset.”

            “He said that you and Marsac were really in love and he’s insecure and jealous,” d’Artagnan said.

            Aramis chewed his lip and shrugged as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

            “Aramis…” d’Artagnan felt something tugging at his chest. “Do you still love him?”

            Aramis flushed and he bit his lip harder. “I… I don’t know. I suppose I do, but- listen!” Aramis grabbed d’Artagnan’s arm to make him listen, so he could explain. “Jean André was… he’s special.”

            It felt like a stinging slap to the face. “And we’re not?”

            “No… shit that’s not what I meant! Yes, you’re special to me,” Aramis said and cupped d’Artagnan’s cheeks. “All of you are because I _love_ you, but it’s different.” Aramis took a breath. “Jean André was the first boy I ever slept with after I came out and because _I_ wanted to.”

            Aramis’s past was no secret and d’Artagnan slowly felt the knot of tension unwind itself. “Then why don’t you just tell Porthos that?”

            Aramis shrugged.

            “Talk to him, Aramis.”

…..

            “Porthos?” Aramis asked quietly and knocked on Porthos’s open door.

            “What is it?” Porthos asked tersely. He looked up from where he was trying to get through a particularly difficult passage in his homework. The combination of his frustration with his homework, his frustration with Aramis, and his general anger at Marsac was not a good combination for his temper.

            “I can come back if you’re busy,” Aramis said and he ducked his head.

            “No… I’m- I just,” Porthos blew out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s fine. What is it Aramis?”

            Aramis twisted the hem of his shirt in his hands nervously. “Porthos… I don’t want- we’re, that is Jean André and I- we’re not- I love you.” He felt his brain was scrambling and he took a breath, biting his lip to help compose himself. “I love you, but Jean André is… he’s dear to me in a way that’s difficult to explain.”

            “Try,” Porthos said.

            Aramis moved into the room and closed the door. He settled next to Porthos and gently took his hand. “Jean André was the first boy I chose, Porthos. The first boy that truly liked _me_ after I came out.” Aramis squeezed Porthos’s hand.

            “That’s not true,” Porthos said.

            Aramis gaped for a moment and he bit his lip. “That’s… Porthos, that isn’t fair. I didn’t know, and we weren’t together.”

            “The others-” Porthos said and he pulled his hand from Aramis’s.

            “I’ll speak to them,” Aramis cut him off shortly. “They can speak for themselves.”

            “Aramis,” Porthos said and shook his head. “I just don’t-”

            “I think we’re done talking, Porthos. You’ve said quite enough.” Aramis was hurt and angry and he stormed out.

…..

            Aramis swore violently as he smudged his art homework. He, in a rare fit of temper, shredded it and tossed it into the trash. He sighed heavily and swiped a hand over his face.

            “You’ve got yourself in a state,” Marsac said from where he was leaning against the doorframe.

            “It’s been a week,” Aramis admitted and he slumped against his headboard.

            “You’re so stressed,” Marsac said and he settled nest to Aramis, their hips pressed together. “Want me to take your mind off it?”

            “I can’t,” Aramis said and leaned into Marsac’s shoulder. “I have partners, Jean André and I love them.”

            Marsac nodded slowly and he let his fingers trace over Aramis’s hand and wrist. “You know you can come to me if you ever want to.”

            “I do,” Aramis said and smiled as he leaned in to press a kiss to Marsac’s cheek. “But I won’t need you to. Thanks.” He smiled before he moved to go and start over on his project.

…..

            Tensions between Aramis and Porthos made everyone else feel like they were walking on thin, glass covered ice. Finally, Athos had had enough.

            He grabbed both Aramis and Porthos by the backs of their shirts. He dragged them into the dining room and plopped them down in seats. “You two are going to talk to each other instead of glaring when the other is looking and pouting once they look away.” Athos took a breath and crossed his arms resolutely. “So talk. Now.” There was that authoritative edge to Athos’s voice that he hardly ever used with them.

            “We already talked, that was the problem,” Porthos said and shook his head.

            Athos frowned. “What are you talking about?”

            “Aramis decided to tell me how _special_ Marsac was to him,” Porthos spat and Athos was taken aback by the venom in Porthos’s voice. “How Marsac was the one who loved him first, as if first is more important than being here for him.”

            “I never said that,” Aramis said and he sounded like the wind had been knocked out of him.

            “You didn’t have to!” Porthos snapped. His eyes were shining with tears and he sniffed, ducking his head.

            Athos took a steadying breath as he looked between the two of them. Both of them had obviously hurt the other, so he was going to have to tread delicately. “Porthos, I don’t think you’re being fair. I understand feeling jealous,” Athos said and he looked at Porthos levelly. “And I even understand feeling insecure. I’ve been in your shoes, more times than I think you realize,” Athos said quietly. In his darker moments he sometimes had the same thoughts about Porthos that he was sure that Porthos and Aramis interchangeably that Porthos was no doubt feeling right now. “But you don’t get to take it out on Aramis. Not without letting him explain.”

            “He didn’t want to,” Porthos said. “He walked out, he left.”

            “Because you weren’t _listening_ ,” Aramis said. “You were saying things to hurt me and I don’t have to sit there and be your verbal punching bag.”

            “Aramis,” Athos said softly, “can’t you see where Porthos is coming from? You jumped into Marsac’s arms and kissed him and you’ve been spending most of your time with him. It stings a little.”

            “I didn’t mean it like _that_. I… we’re close friends, but we can’t ever be what we were before,” Aramis admitted and picked at the hem of his shirt. “I don’t want that with him because I have everything I need from you and Porthos and d’Artagnan. I love the three of you. I’m happy with the three of you.”

            “We love you too,” Athos assured, knowing Aramis needed the little reminder.

            “Of course we do,” Porthos said, his voice cracking.

            Aramis seemed to slump a little with relief.

            “Though,” Porthos said with a small smile, “I think you owe d’Artagnan an apology, Mis.”

            Aramis blushed and Athos raised an eyebrow. “What did you do to d’Artagnan?”

            “It’s more like what I prevented from being done to d’Artagnan,” Aramis said and shot a sideways glance to Porthos.

            The three of them burst into light laughter that completely wiped the previous tension away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a year but I've been constantly thinking about this story. I've decided that I'm definitely going to work to finish this now (I thought this chapter was going to be the last but when I was reworking it I decided it needed one more >.<) Comment and tell me what y'all thought, or yell at me for leaving it for so long (tbh I totally deserve it)  
> -James


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